


The Undimmed Light

by peachBitch1



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anal Sex, Anti-Hero, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Coercion, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fight Scenes, Fix-It, Forgehusbands, Hand Jobs, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Horror, Minor Character Death, Morally Ambiguous Character, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Plot, Porn with plot and feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tender Sex, Trauma Recovery, Treasure Hunting, dark themes, long conversations, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachBitch1/pseuds/peachBitch1
Summary: Hector secretly plans to retaliate against his captors, while slowly going mad as Lenore treats him like her sex slave. Meanwhile Isaac is forging an army of night creatures, dead-set on storming Carmilla’s castle and extracting revenge on all the traitors, but especially on Hector.Soon the forgemasters will meet again on opposite sides of a struggle, and a lot will be revealed. The former comrades turned enemies will have to set aside their differences and join forces to regain something of great importance to them both, while getting closer to each other than they ever thought they could be...
Relationships: Hector/Isaac, Hector/Isaac (Castlevania), Hector/Lenore (Castlevania)
Comments: 98
Kudos: 221





	1. Dying in your sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: brief dub-con Hector/Lenore, a lot of slow burn Hector/Isaac - including plot, adventures, porn and feelings.  
> Sypha and Trevor will appear much later as side characters  
> Big thanks to my friend Moonstonemama for her beta and our brainstorming sessions!
> 
> WARNINGS: Everything's in the tags - read the tags!

Hector knew that he had brought Lenore upon himself. He had always known that he was rotten to the core, his parents made sure he understood that he was born wrong, and by betraying Dracula - the only person to ever treat him with kindness and respect- Hector proved them right. 

Lenore was his punishment for all his mistakes - a manifestation of all that had gone wrong. A five-foot-tall package of girlish charms and sadistic intent that had been sent as if by the Devil himself to personally torment him. And the forgemaster knew he deserved every last bit of it.

As always, at first Hector had made futile attempts to fight his fate. Even after all his years, some stubborn part of the man kept trying to rise above his lot and grasp for something better in life than the sour drought destiny had chosen for him. Hector tried to play the game, tried to use Lenore’s seeming good-will against her. But he had been no match - just a fly trying to outmaneuver the spider in her own web.

If only she had spoken the truth about wanting to run away with him - Hector often caught himself lamenting - then he would have used her to get as far away from Carmilla’s castle as he could and then wait for the right moment to twist Lenore’s little neck and finally be free…

Hector supposed he deserved the way she treated him after she slipped that damned ring on his hand. The way she humiliated him by dragging him behind her and telling everyone how she had fooled him into becoming her slave. The sly smile on her face when she palmed his crotch or toed between his thighs in front of everyone. As if his manhood was a toy and he was just a bulk of meat attached to it. 

But who could blame her for her cruelty - he had tried to double-cross her after all. She had merely won, and he had lost. That was the whole point of playing games. There was always a winner and a loser, and Hector knew that it was high time he stopped trying to cheat his odds. He never won anyway.

So, Hector accepted that he had brought his predicament upon himself. But in truth, his new situation didn’t look as nightmarish as he had come to expect. Lenore’s private suite was that of a princess, if not a queen. Lush carpets of white fur covered the pale wooden floor boards, black velvet drapes lined with golden thread hung over the glazed windows. The hearths were filled with warm, blazing flames, and caged with bars twisted in floral motives, and lamps illuminated every corner of the stylishly decorated space.

He was lead through different rooms until they arrived in Lenore’s bedroom, which was huge to the forgemaster’s eyes. The central-piece was the four-poster bed, with a baldachim of the kind that Hector had only ever heard about in fairy tales about princesses in far-off lands. In a way, Lenore was as close to a real princess as Hector had ever gotten to meet, and he felt awkward and out of place amongst the finery of her most private chamber.

“Forgive me, Hector. This was the best that we could do at a short notice,” Lenore apologised fluidly and it almost sounded sincere. “At least until we can have your own quarters built.”

Hector’s eyes followed her gaze to a corner of the room, which was sectioned from floor to ceiling with gilded metal bars. On the floor, within the enclosure, plush cushions and a folded blanket were arranged, along with a chamber pot, a pile of books, and an ornate silver pitcher with a cup from the same set. It was essentially an adult-sized play-pen.

“What’s the point of all this,” Hector growled, unaffected by the cute way in which she batted her lashes at him. “You put that damned ring on me! Why bother with cages when you can control me?”

“I cannot control you,” the petite vampire placated, taking his elbow in her deceptively tender hands. “The ring only ensures that you won’t betray or otherwise hurt me. However, it won’t stop you from trashing my room or urinating on my bed, if you have another temper fit.”

“You know that I am not actually an animal,” Hector shook his head with barely suppressed rage. He didn’t know if Lenore was purposefully humiliating him, or if she really had such a low opinion of him. Either way, he had never wanted to twist someone’s neck so badly…

“Of course I know that, Hector,” Lenore laughed playfully, but the look in her eyes was dangerous. “You must forgive me for this - I only do it for the sake of my sisters. You see, I can’t just let you roam freely in our part of the Castle. And surely, this isn’t so bad after the cell?”

Hector grit his teeth. He didn’t believe anything she said anymore, but he knew that he had no choice but to go along with it. 

“It’s only temporary, and if you need anything you will let me know, alright,” the vampire pulled on his arm and to avoid being dragged, Hector followed her to the barred door of his new cage. 

Lenore locked him inside the enclosure and stood before the bars, admiring her handywork. 

“There! A nice little cozy place for you to rest while I take care of things,” the redhead cheered with a happy smile on her face. 

Hector’s lips thinned as he held back a retort. He wasn’t an animal to be glad about getting a new pen full of toys! Did she conveniently forget that he was still a forgemaster and that no matter what the vampire sisters said, he was certain that soon they would be piling corpses in front of him, begging him to turn them into an army of night creatures...

“I must leave now. I have a few real-people things to take care of, but I won’t be long…” Lenore continued. “Be a good boy and sleep while I’m gone. I have plans to play with you after sunrise.”

Lenore giggled girlishly and Hector raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Did she seriously think that he was going to go to bed with her again?! After everything that she had done...

“See you in the morning, my sweet,” Lenore blew him a kiss and left the forgemaster alone in his proverbial gilded cage.

… 

Hector tried pulling or bending the bars, but soon he was certain that there was no way to break out of the enclosure, so he decided to conserve his energy and sat down on the floor.

The room was warm and he’d been given everything that a human being needed to remain alive. Lenore had even thought to leave him books on vampire history for enrichment. After briefly entertaining the idea of tearing the tomes to shreds, Hector decided against it. He didn’t want to prove her right and act like a misbehaving dog. Nor did he want to incur a punishment for his behavior.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to settle down and read or even sleep. It wasn’t so much the cell, as it bothered him that Lenore’s treatment was so humane. It reminded him of a conversation he had once had with Dracula, about putting the humans in pens, their population controlled, and the condition being humane.

Could it be that God was punishing him for what he had wanted to do to humanity? The forgemaster tried to feel remorse for what he had done, but none came. Humans deserved it. He deserved it even more. But he wasn’t going to accept it. There was only one difference between him and the rest of his kind - Hector didn’t give up, no matter how others tried to break him. He was going to wait for his chance, and when it presented itself, bring down the ones responsible for his suffering. 

The trick was waiting and playing along. Learning the rules. Letting them become complacent in their mistreatment of him. They had to think that they had him cowed and he was no longer a threat. Let them think that they’d gotten the best of him - he was going to strike when they least expected it.

And Hector knew that he’d get his chance soon enough. He just needed the vampire sisters to ask him to forge night creatures again and when they did, he was going to do exactly as they told him and make warriors. But they were all fools if they thought that he wouldn’t sacrifice a finger for his freedom. And although Hector didn’t usually enjoy causing pain, he just couldn’t wait to order his night creatures to tear the vampires to shreds. 

The forgemaster’s vengeful musings got him through the night and eventually he dozed off on the floor, surrounded by velvet cushions and silk tassels. He woke up to a hand running through his hair and cringed away from Lenore’s intrusive touch. 

“There there,” the redhead soothed, “It’s just me.”

Hector sat up and crawled away from her until his back touched the wall. Lenore didn’t seem pleased, but she didn’t hesitate to follow him, resuming her petting of his hair, as if he was truly an animal in her eyes.

“I brought you dinner,” she told him gently and pushed a covered tray towards him. Hector had no doubt that it contained delicious food, but his stomach churned at the thought of expressing gratitude for being fed like a dog.

“Come on, you must be hungry,” Lenore cajoled and when Hector shook his head, she took out a piece of bread and waved it before his face playfully. “Come on! Just one bite!”

Lenore was obviously having fun and it sickened Hector to the core, solidifying his resolve not to accept food in that way. Not giving up, the vampire pushed the bread against Hector’s tightly shut lips, laughing until she realised that he really wasn’t going to eat and then she frowned deeply. 

“Oh, if you are sure,” the redhead sounded frustrated, then she got up to her feet and pulled Hector up by the arm. The forgemaster was forced to stand, but he leaned away against the wall, as far away from her as he could get, which wasn’t much. 

“Come on then, let’s get you out,” Lenore hooked her dainty arm around Hector’s larger one and pulled. She was very small and it was really deceptive, because with her strength she could easily make him do anything she wanted, and right now she wanted to drag him, so for the sake of his pride, Hector followed along. 

He wasn’t taken far. Lenore stopped him in the middle of her bedroom and asked him to strip. The loose peasants attire that he wore wasn’t much, but it was all that he owned, and Hector frowned, not wanting to relinquish the only thing that was his. His momentary hesitation earned him another displeased look and his captor repeated the command with a sharper tone.

Knowing that if he didn’t comply he’d be stripped by force, Hector proceeded to take off the ugly shirt and pants that Lenore had previously given to him. He didn’t like the way the vampire stared at every inch of his skin as it was revealed. It made him apprehensive to what would come next.

“Follow me,” Lenore said when Hector was standing completely naked before her. The forgemaster did as he was told, noticing a servant going in to collect his discarded clothing as soon as they left the bedroom. Something in his gut twisted bitterly at the loss. He doubted he would see his clothing again.

Lenore took him to her bathing chamber and a bathtub already filled with steaming water. Hector’s eyes landed heavily on the froffy bubbles, his nose stinging from the strong floral aromas. His mouth was going dry and a heaviness was gathering in his chest. It really didn’t take much imagination to guess where the whole encounter was heading.

“Bath time,” Lenore cheered girlishly, making Hector cringe. He looked between her and the tub and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. 

“In you go,” Lenore prompted a little impatiently.

Reminding himself that he had to play the game, he had to let her think that he was defeated and no longer a threat, Hector got into the soapy water. It wasn’t like there was any alternative anyway - if he didn’t play along he was still going to end up in the water - only bleeding and bruised. He had no control of what was going to happen to him, but he could choose how some of it was going to go down. So he closed his eyes as he sunk into the tub. 

In any other circumstance the bath would have felt heavenly, but it’s comfort felt empty and almost threatening. When Lenore’s small hands began washing his hair, Hector stiffened and remained stock still, hoping that his lack of reaction would bore her. If it did, Lenore didn’t show it. She began sharing details of her day, talking about her successes and frustrations, and Hector tried verbally responding, if only to encourage her to keep speaking. Anything he could learn about his enemy was useful, and as long as she was talking, she wasn’t abusing him. It was a win-win situation.

But before too long she deemed him clean enough and told him to get out of the tub so that she could dry him with a towel. Hector was once again still as a statue as Lenore went through the intimate details of drying his body, not missing a spot. She laughed as she excessively toweled his flaccid penis and made sure to dry between his legs and ass-cheeks.

It was a humiliating experience, and Hector was sure that his face was burning with shame. However he didn’t afford himself any other reaction. He bottled it all down under a scowl, which did nothing to dissuade Lenore. In fact, his frowns seemed to only challenge her.

The petite vampire took him back to her bedroom and ordered him to climb on her bed.

“I’m quite tired,” she told him. “I had some ideas of how we could play together, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. For now all I want to do is sleep. Would you like to sleep with me, Hector?”

“I’d rather sleep over there,” the forgemaster responded, nodding towards the pen in the corner. 

“Tut-tut,” Lenore curved a disapproving eyebrow as she turned and began to undress. 

Hector’s mind stammered to a stop as the petite woman unlaced her cloak and let it fall on the ground, revealing the feminine curves of her waist and hips. The back of Lenore’s dress was very low and Hector stared transfixed at the way her spine and shoulder blades moved under her porcelain skin as she undid her belt and pushed the straps of her dress down from her shoulders. The dress slipped down her frame to pool on the floor and Hector tore his eyes away with difficulty.

His heart was hammering in his chest, so loud that he could hear it pounding in his ears. He knew what Lenore was doing, but it worked anyway. He tried to think of what she had done to him, of her evil smirk as she ridiculed him, of the way her boot had felt when she stepped on him that time when she beat him senseless...

When Lenore approached and Hector dared to glance at her again, she had changed into a translucent nightgown with little black ribbons that did nothing to preserve her modesty. She might have looked less provocative if she had nothing on. 

Hector forced his eyes away from her, but it was too late - his body was already reacting to the sight of her. He cursed himself and curled on the sheets, trying to hide his nakedness with his bent legs and the arms he wrapped around his knees. He prayed that he could remain soft in her presence.

Lenore finally got in bed, sliding under the covers with a content sigh. She pulled the long red hair from underneath her and spread it over the plush pillows like a halo of copper. Some of the strands tickled Hector’s flesh and he shivered, trying to move away, but he was caught right there and pulled out of his defensive position and into the vampire’s embrace. Her naked arms encircled him and Lenore tucked her head against Hector’s naked chest.

“Goodnight, sweet Hector,” she sighed, stroking his skin lazily. 

The man closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Lenore’s cold fingers traveled up and down his spine and stomach, caressing him lightly, almost innocently. But he wasn’t an animal to be soothed by that treatment. Her touches had an effect on him and no matter how he tried to control his cursed body, his heart sped up with arousal. 

Memories of how it felt to be inside Lenore tortured him. He remembered her sighs of pleasure, the lascivious look on her face as he had breached her.

“Are you alright, my pet,” Lenore murmured sleepily. “You are panting in my ear and I can’t fall asleep with all the noise.”

Hector swallowed, mortified and blushing furiously. He hadn’t been breathing that hard. Lenore was playing another game with him, trying to debase him. Sadly there was nothing he could do to spare himself the humiliation. 

“Are you in heat, my pet,” Lenore asked innocently, her hand travelling lower. He caught her wrist, just a few inches shy from its destination. 

“Why, you really are like an animal,” Lenore cracked her lids opened, looking at him from between her thick eyelashes. 

It was clear that the only thing he could do was act as if at least some of what was happening was under his control. So climbing to his hands and knees, Hector pushed the covers away from Lenore’s body, revealing the skimpy little night gown that she had chosen to wear. Despite knowing that he was falling for her games, the man couldn’t help but grow harder as he looked at her perky nipples through the transparent fabric, and at the shaved little slit between her legs. 

“Oh, Hector… I just wanted to sleep,” Lenore complained insincerely. Her thighs separated a bit, leaving a small dip of space between them. “Won’t you let me sleep?”

Perhaps she was right to liken him to an animal, Hector thought as he hitched her skirt up and bent down to kiss and lick at her soft legs. He knew better, but his body wanted what she was offering, and he couldn't see a reason to resist. She was going to have him one way or another - why not do it on his own terms?

Lenore opened her legs and Hector knelt between them, lifting her small body, so that he could tongue her clit. She made excited little noises, arching her back like a cat while he used his mouth to get her off, tasting her arousal and trembling with his own desire.

She orgasmed with a loud gasp and Hector could feel that she was wet and ready for him, so he set her down on the bed and pulled her legs around his waist.

He thrust into her body with something akin to cruelty. She gasped and smiled knowingly, but he didn’t seem to be capable of hurting her. He certainly tried. He pounded into her brutally, fingers finding their way to her neck as he tried to punish her for what she had done to him, and Lenore gasped and trashed in ecstasy beneath him, reaching another peak with a scream.

Hector found it hard to finish. Although she was beautiful and her body fit tightly around his cock like a lock for a key, he couldn’t reach his pleasure. His arousal had turned into uglier emotions - anger, frustration and disgust, chasing each other where lust and pleasure should have been. Lenore stopped him with a hand on his chest and Hector knew better than trying to fight her.

“I wanted to sleep but now you’ve woken me up,” the vampire's voice was low and seductive as she looked at him wantonly through her lashes. “We will have it your way then. But first, close your eyes!”

Hector had no choice but to do as he was told. He felt her touch his erection and then something tight was wrapped around the base of it. His eyes snapped open from the sudden discomfort that bordered on pain.

“It’s called a cock ring,” Lenore smiled at him. “Morana’s invention for torturing men. However, it doesn’t have to be used for torture. In my experience some men can learn to rather enjoy it. I think you will too.”

“Get it off me,” Hector protested, trying to remove the thing but jostling it only caused him more pain.

“Now now, be a good pet and don’t touch that,” Lenore admonished gently. “Think of it as a collar.”

With a laugh the redhead pushed him down on the sheets and straddled him, sheathing herself on his erection. Hector hissed - the cockring was making him too sensitive. When the woman began to move it was borderline torturous.

“You can last for hours with this on,” Lenore informed him cheerfully, as if she didn’t see him grimace. “You won’t be able to come until you earn it. That’s fair given you woke me up after all I wanted to do was sleep, don’t you agree?”

“You are a sadist,” Hector accused through gritted teeth.

“Who was trying to hurt me just moments ago, pounding into me as if I’m no more than a sex doll, made for your pleasure,” Lenore accused in return. “You reap what you sow, Hector. You had your chance. Now it’s my turn to use you.”

In a sick sense, she was right, the forgemaster realised. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as Lenore ruthlessly rode him, finding her pleasure over and over again, even as he twisted in agony beneath her. 

...  
…  
...

Isaac walked through the half-finished city that now stood empty like the tomb of the delusional mind, which had devised it. The structures were helenistic in style and the layout was orderly and well-conceived, but all the buildings were merely half-finished and everywhere there were signs of the decay that had plagued the unnatural settlement even before Isaac’s horde had filled it with corpses. 

“It appears that the mad magician was a fan of Alexandrian city planning,” Isaac told no one in particular. Around him the night creatures were busy dragging away the corpses of the dead and piling them into heaps in the central plaza under the magician’s tower. 

Even for Isaac there was a little too much death and ruin in the bleak dawn light. The smells that filled the air were revolting, and the stench of blood and the smoke from the fires lingered, trapped low over the ground by the morning fog.

“It would have been wiser if they had finished some of the buildings before they started building new ones. Perhaps some manner of housing for the workers should have been completed first,” Isaac continued his musings aloud. “And then a canteen or a hospital…”

His dark eyes fell to one of the fresh cadavers, a man whose arm muscles were torn to shreds from the strain of his labours. The wounds were festering, but the compulsion of the evil magician had forced him to continue to work until death had come as a mercy for him.

“Maybe not a hospital then. Perhaps you were not at all concerned with the welfare of your workers,” Isaac continued, addressing the dead magician, whose ugly vision surrounded the forgemaster from all sides. “I suppose you thought that you could have a nearly endless supply of human beings to finish your construction. And I wonder, did you plan to populate this city of yours with those workers, or were you going to enslave a fresh population to fill the buildings and the streets, once the work was done…”

The hollow wailing of the wind around the mountainous peaks was the only answer the forgemaster got. Around him his demons kept collecting bodies and dragging them through the rubble, leaving trails of dried blood and entrails on the dusty streets.

“I must be going mad,” Isaac concluded with resignation. “I keep speaking to myself. I’ve been alone for far too long.”

The forgemaster’s white cape twirled around him as he strode back to the tower with determination. The man ascended the wide staircase and stood on the top, overlooking his creature’s work. Soon the streets were going to be empty of corpses and the forgemaster was going to begin his long, arduous work of turning each body into a demon. 

“This city will be populated at last by an army of my creation,” Isaac smiled darkly, observing his handiwork. The cold mountainous wind blew away the morning mists and the smoke, revealing a pale sunrise between the snow-covered peaks. “However briefly that may last before we march on Styria. Speaking of which, I wonder…”

Isaac motioned to one of his more intelligent creations.

“Bring me the mirror!”

The demon did as it was told and soon Isaac was sitting atop the staircase with the small ornate box opened atop his lap.

“Sir Mirror, show me my desire,” Isaac spoke the familiar command. “Show me what that traitor is doing…”

Isaac’s words froze on his lips and his mouth fell agape in shock and surprise. Of all the things he had expected, he had never imagined becoming privy to the scene that was revealed on the small mirror before him. 

It was Hector - or more like the man’s broad back - muscles bunching and straining as he thrust between a smaller woman’s pale thighs on top of a bed of velvet sheets. For a moment Isaac couldn’t look away, the image blazing like a branding in his memory. Then in a flash of red-hot rage, Isaac dismissed the mirror and shut the box.

“That… son of a …” Isaac growled, shaking with frustration. The very idea that Hector was fucking some vampire bitch after all that he had done, made Isaac want to kill him even more. Hector didn’t get to be happy - he didn’t get to seduce and have sex. Isaac had been travelling for months, facing every kind of difficulty and deprivation, all the while his only satisfaction had been knowing that Hector was suffering for his betrayal, naked and beaten like a dog in a cell. But now this -

“I underestimated you,” Isaac spoke to the man who was still weeks of travel away. “All that innocence and naivety... was that all an act? Did I ever really know you, Hector?”

The image of what he had seen was imprinted on the back of his retinas, and try as he might, Isaac couldn’t dismiss it. It didn’t help to know that what he had seen was happening at the same time as he had witnessed it. 

Isaac didn’t know why, but his blood was boiling and a part of him acknowledged that he was reacting too hotly. Hector was meant to die by his hand. Did it really matter what he got up to in the meantime? He was a traitor and that was his biggest offence - not that he had fucked his way out of the cell and into some vampire’s bed.

“I need a distraction,” Isaac announced, getting up and striding back into the tower. His feet took him down the steps to the basement where the large distance mirror was located. He could have just looked into Sir Mirror again, but he didn’t dare risk seeing Hector in ecstasy by mistake. Isaac couldn’t stomach that.

The large mirror rearranged itself and showed Isaac the one other person in the world that the forgemaster could think of seeking. 

The old, grey-clad sorceress came into view as she sat on her lonely porch, soaking in the morning rays. As she did before, she looked straight at Isaac, as if she could sense him looking at her.

“Well, if you want to talk, just step through the mirror, forgemaster,” the old woman’s blue eyes taunted him. “I don’t bite… much.”

The mention of biting made the unbidden vision of Hector bedding that vampire flash before Isaac’s eyes once again. He shook his head to clear his mind. That traitor… he had no business distracting Isaac and disturbing his dealing any more than he had already done. 

With resolution, Isaac stepped through the mirror and found himself outside, surrounded by the abandoned village that he had previously passed on his way. Miranda’s arched eyebrow made her look pleased. 

“Well well,” the old sorceress drawled in her mocking tone, “I was starting to think that you only like to watch, Isaac.”

Her teasing was getting to him, and Isaac attributed it to how long he had been on his own. Perhaps he was really beginning to lose his mind if an old woman managed to make him flustered.

“I did not wish to trouble you lightly, Miranda,” the forgemaster bowed his head a bit in a gesture of greeting and respect.

“Your presence is no trouble at all,” Miranda chuckled unpleasantly. “I could do with a few more pretty forgemasters running around this old wreck.”

The sorceress spread her hands to gesture at the empty buildings of her village and laughed harder. Isaac raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know why he had sought solace and conversation with another person who had clearly become mad from the same loneliness that was currently suffocating him. But then again, there was the answer within the question. Loneliness. It was getting so bad that Isaac couldn’t think straight.

“It must be your lucky day then. I intend to keep you company for a bit,” Isaac smiled, walked over and crouched down to sit on his heels beside her. In front of them, there was only the view of stark mountain peaks and a sky of scattered clouds.

“I suppose I owe you my thanks for taking care of that mad old magician and avenging my people,” Miranda began conversationally, glancing at him from the side of her eyes. 

“No gratitude’s required,” Isaac disagreed, closing his, so that her scrutiny wouldn’t bother him, in the guise of protecting his irises from the low-hanging sun. “That man was a sickness that needed to be eradicated from this land.”

“He wasn’t always like this,” Miranda said slowly after a long, pregnant pause. 

“What do you mean,” Isaac asked, even though he had already begun to guess that Miranda hadn’t been entirely honest with him from the start.

“I knew him as a young man,” Miranda admitted. “In a way, you remind me of him when he was handsome, full of energy, and idealistic. Just like you, he wanted to change the world. Yes, you remind me so much of him, that I am willing to share something with you…”

“What might that be,” Isaac narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Only a piece of advice,” Miranda smiled knowingly. “The world doesn’t need saving. Keep your grand ideas for books and long-winded debates, but leave the world as it is. Unless you want it to disappoint you so much that your mind will break and you will end up insane and alone, torturing others because of your mad ideas.”

Isaac’s eyes widened.

“I believe you have me mistaken,” he disagreed. “I am only looking for revenge on those who wronged me.”

“Are you? Then why are you here, instead of forging a grand army?”

“I am tired from fighting all night,” Isaac admitted, lowering his eyes to the ground. “And… I just saw something that disturbed me.”

“What on earth could disturb one such as you,” Miranda leaned in her chair towards him. Her blue eyes darted all over him, which Isaac pretended not to notice.

“That colleague of mine - the traitor… I saw him,” Isaac said slowly, fighting the notes of rage until he couldn’t contain them any longer and he spat, “I saw him in bed with a vampire. He was supposed to be in a cell, barely alive, or chained to a forge, coerced into creating night creatures. Not bedding a vampire aristocrat!”

A wicked smile spread on the old sorceress’ face.

“Has it occurred to you that a woman, not to mention a vampire, can compel a man, even a forgemaster, to bed her, if she so wishes?”

“I know what I saw! Hector wasn’t compelled,” Isaac shook with disgust.

“So what do you believe happened? How did a prisoner end up in bed with a princess?”

“He…” Isaac cut himself off. The idea of Hector seducing someone was too absurd to say it out loud. Yet there was no other explanation. “Perhaps someone in the court has taken a fancy with him.”

“If he’s half as pretty as you are, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case,” Miranda winked. “But the more interesting question is, why does that bother you so much?”

Isaac had no answer.

“It’s because I hate him,” he settled for in the end. “I don’t want to see him happy. I don’t want to see him loved. I want to make him suffer!”

“The opposite of love isn’t hate, Isaac,” Miranda divulged her wisdom loftily. “It’s indifference. And you are not at all indifferent to this man, from what I can see.”

“What is hate then, if it is not the opposite of love,” Isaac argued back heatedly. “What is hate, if not the desire to hurt, to kill? Indifference is for those you don’t yet know. Those whom you neither love nor hate. Indifference is an absence of feeling, whereas hate is the polar opposite of love!”

“You just answered your own question,” Miranda pointed out shrewdly. “You cannot hate unless you love. You feel hate because you’ve been hurt, and disappointed. But you are not indifferent to this man. In fact, by the way you react, I think that you are quite partial to him.”

“I … haven’t loved in a very long time,” Isaac said, tasting each word in his own mouth to check for self-deceit. 

Had he really not cared for Dracula? And what about Hector? Had he really felt nothing when Hector had looked at him with understanding, when Hector had put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder in a gesture of support…

“I respected my Master deeply before he was killed,” Isaac said slowly, pushing away the memory of being alone with Hector, the other man standing close enough to kiss. “The traitor helped make that happen. I hate Hector, because of what I lost because of him.”

“Very well then. It seems like your mind is made,” Miranda tilted the corner of her mouth in a mysterious smirk. “It has been nice chatting with you, forgemaster. But now my head is starting to ache and you must excuse a poor old woman for not having the energy for intense conversations that last too long.”

Isaac nodded in acceptance of her dismissal and got up to leave.

“But do come again, if you ever need to discuss what’s on your mind,” Miranda’s words followed him as Isaac stepped over the portal. “And bring the other forgemaster next time too. I’d love to meet him.”

Isaac paused, looking over his shoulder at the old woman.

“What makes you think that I won’t just kill him on sight?”

“Will you,” Miranda cocked an eyebrow knowingly.

Flustered, Isaac stepped back into the tower and left the old sorceress alone on her porch.

…

The days that followed were filled with consuming labour while Isaac turned every last corpse into a nightcreature for his horde. It took him nearly a week to get the job done, but finally, he stood before the mirror, army in toll behind him, ready to make his march on Carmilla’s castle during broad daylight - the time when vampires were lethargic and most vulnerable.

The memory of Hector hadn’t left Isaac’s mind, no matter how hard the forgemaster tried to banish it. 

In the end, Miranda was right - Isaac couldn’t just kill him. Death was too easy, too plain for Hector. The traitor needed to be made to suffer and admit his mistakes. Only then would Isaac grant him the release of death, but only for a moment, before summoning back his spirit from hell and turning Hector into the most hideous creature the world had ever known. Something that crawled on its belly and ate shit...

“Perhaps the old woman will get her wish after all,” Isaac said out loud. “Maybe I can let her turn you into a toad for a while, Hector. Then I will pin you to a dry rock and watch you cook in the sun… There are so many possibilities to make you suffer. But I must capture you first.”

“We march,” he ordered his hordes, pointing the tip of his dagger to the castle that stood nestled between the tall mountains on the other side of the mirror’s surface. “Go forth, my warriors! Kill everyone you meet, but bring me Hector, the forgemaster, alive and unharmed. I want him in one piece!”

...


	2. And the pits of hell shall be emptied...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two forgemasters face each other as enemies...

Hector woke up to the sounds of loud banging on the doors. The forgemaster had been sleeping curled up on the plush carpet next to Lenore’s bed, naked and leashed to the bed frame. The man felt mortified to be seen in such a state by the guards, but he had nothing to cover his body with, nor could he get free from the leash, which imprisoned him when a group of soldiers entered Lenore’s bedchamber to report.

“It’s an emergency,” the captain of the guards explained. She didn’t even spare a glance of disdain to the human, who sat tied to the bed like a dog. “We’re under attack by an army of night creatures. Lady Lenore, Commander Striga ordered that you be taken to safety and the forgemaster be put to work immediately!”

Hector tried to keep his face impassive upon hearing the news. On one hand, he was going to forge again and that meant he could finally get his chance for freedom. But on the other hand, they were under attack by an army of night creatures, which could only mean… 

Isaac. 

Isaac was supposed to be dead. 

Lenore rose from her bed and was speaking with the captain, but Hector was barely listening to the two vampires speak. Clearly Isaac hadn’t died, because besides Hector, Isaac was the only other forgemaster alive, who was powerful enough to create and command a whole army of night creatures. 

Someone tossed Hector clothing and he jumped at the opportunity to get dressed. The new attire was nothing more than a soldier’s underarmour - a simple black tunic and pants, with a pair of combat boots. However, after a week spent in his skin alone, it was like being given the livery of a prince. Hector felt like a person again, his back straightened and he felt that with clothes on he regained a small measure of his dignity. 

Meanwhile someone untied his collar and exchanged the leather lead for one made of a heavy metal chain. 

“Walk, forgemaster,” a soldier growled and Hector followed, preferring compliance to getting manhandled. 

“I will lead him,” Lenore snatched the chain from the guard’s gloved hand. “And I won’t be holed up in hiding like a mouse! Hector needs me and I’m going with him!”

Hector tried not to let his shoulders sag as he felt his hopes deflating. Lenore was very perceptive and also a higher vampire, therefore in her presence escape was going to be a lot harder. However, it wasn’t impossible, or so he reminded himself. He just needed to forge creatures that were strong enough to overpower Lenore and the guards, and to find a way to slice off his own ring finger while no one was looking, so that he’d no longer be controlled.

...

The man was marched through the castle’s corridors at an almost unnatural pace. Lenore had to drag him along and pick him up when he stumbled just to keep up with the urgency of their walk.

Finally they arrived in the castle’s Great Hall where Carmilla and Morana waitied by a pile of corpses. The vampires’ expressions were pinched and dire, and Hector just knew that trouble was brewing for him.

“Lenore,” Morana began as his captor casually passed Hector’s leash to a guard. “As you‘ve heard, we are under attack. It’s probable that we’re facing another forgemaster. His army is composed only of night creatures and he’s decimating our mercenary army under the high noon sun.”

The soldier roughly pushed the forgemaster around until Hector was all but thrown on the ground before the dead mercenaries that were piled there. 

“Just make that thing forge already,” Carmilla interrupted impatiently, gesturing towards Hector in a fit of frustration.

“And what if I won’t,” Hector growled, tired of being ignored and tossed around like a mouse in the claws of cats. He hated Lenore and he hated Carmilla even more. He even hated Morana and Striga, even though he barely knew them. He didn’t care about the lives of anyone in the castle, so if they were in danger, Hector rather liked the idea of letting them all get killed. 

Carmilla slapped him faster than Hector’s eyes could see. He only knew that he'd been hit because he was suddenly thrown on his side on the floor, the stones below his face turning red with his blood. 

“I told you that he’s useless,” Carmilla fumed. She picked up the metal chain of the forgemaster’s leash and pulled Hector up until the man was on his knees before her. Hector raised his hands to protect himself from another blow and closed his eyes -

“No, wait! Let me,” Lenore intervened, saving him from the next attack. Involuntarily, Hector’s heart fluttered with genuine gratitude for being protected. He tried not to tear up in relief.

“Hector, this is a matter of life or death,” Lenore bent at the waist to get closer to his eye level as he knelt on the ground. Her large eyes were sympathetic and at that moment Hector badly wanted to believe that she cared about him. “We are attacked by an army and the human mercenaries are no match against the night creatures. But we can’t send our vampire soldiers during the daytime. We need your skills.”

“These night creatures…” Hector asked haltingly, warily glancing to Carmilla for answers, “Are they Isaac’s?”

“Does it matter,” Carmilla waved her arms in the air impatiently. “Are you going to do it, or must I make you!?”

Hector really didn’t want to get beaten any more. He looked to the pile of corpses that had been prepared for him. It had to be Isaac! Otherwise Carmilla would have denied it outright just to watch his spirits fall. But did that make it any better or worse?

“I will need something to work with. I don’t have my hammer,” Hector’s answered with resignation, even as his mind was still spinning with the possibilities. What would Isaac do if they met again? Would his former colleague be willing to help him? Or would Isaac be only looking for revenge?

“You will have to make due with this,” Carmilla threw a clunky warhammer on the ground before him. 

Who would be worse - Lenore or Isaac, he wondered? Did he stand a chance to defeat the other forgemaster if it came down to a fight? Wasn’t it wiser to just attempt to run away?

“This… it will do,” Hector uttered automatically and tried to forget about his hopes and fears and concentrate on the present. It was clear to him that if he wasn’t careful then he didn’t have to worry about what Isaac would do if they met again - he simply wouldn’t be alive to find out. 

“But there isn’t enough raw material for an army,” Hector pointed out. “I can only make one night creature out of each body. If there’s an whole army coming-“

“Then you better demonstrate that legendary skill of yours and make some fucking powerful creatures,” Carmilla interupted him. “And don’t worry, we’re bringing you more raw materials. Just start with those, while we wait for the next batch of bodies to arrive.”

“I’m not sure how legendary my skill will be when I’m working with this,” Hector raised the heavy warhammer in his hands. It was unhandy and poorly balanced - nothing like his forging hammer, which had been precisely made to fit perfectly in his hands. “A forgemaster’s tool is just as important as his skills. They are often tied together -“

“Then get to work! No more excuses,” Carmilla took a menacing step towards him. “You are no use to us if you can’t forge! Remember that!”

Hector swallowed thickly and nodded. He knew better than to try Carmilla’s patience further. Her claws had left four welts on the side of his face and he could taste his own blood running down his cheek into the side of his mouth. He blinked some of the moisture of his eyes away, not caring if it looked like he was crying. It didn’t matter what any of them thought of him anymore - all that mattered was somehow getting through the latest shitstorm and surviving to see another day.

The forgemaster motioned to the guards to bring forth a corpse and raised the warhammer in his hands, concentrating his magic and his will. Blue sparks surrounded him and Hector closed his eyes. He felt the spirit flame engulf him, but it was volutile and uncontrolled, poorly channeled through the ungainly weapon in his hands. His power was hazardly directed when he brought the hammer down and began beating the sparks of energy into the ground, from where they traveled towards the corpse, filling it with new life.

A misshapen thing was born, more horrible and ugly than any of the demons that Hector had raised before. The thing was aberrant and asymmetrical, with rolls of eyes on one side of its head and a single empty eye socket on the other. It was huge and it roared deafeningly, filled with enmity and bloodlust that the forgemaster found difficult to put under control. 

“Oh my,” Carmilla exclaimed, stepping away with a smile that looked cruel and oddly pleased. “Your creatures seem to have only improved from your time with us! I’ve never seen you create something so massive before.”

Hector narrowly avoided getting attacked and exercised the whole of his will to calm the creature and make it loyal to himself. 

“That’s because this creature isn’t an improvement,” Hector cautioned. “It’s an abomination. I don’t have control over what I’m doing! I can’t continue to work like this - there is no way of knowing what kind of demons I might accidentally let loose-“

“Carmilla, maybe this is too risky for what it’s worth-“ Morana tried to reason with the white haired vampire, but Carmilla didn’t listen.

“Keep going,” Carmilla commanded and when Hector tried to disagree, a sting of nauseating pain traveled through his veins, making his vision blur and his knees give out.

“That’s enough,” Lenore ran to his side, enfolding his heaving chest within her slim arms and patting his back reassuringly. “You will do as you're told and the pain will go away. Say that you will obey! Say it, Hector!”

“I will obey,” Hector screamed through the tears of agony and the dark magic of the ring slowly released his body from its thorned clutches. 

The human heaved heavily, trembling on his hands and knees, head hung low, tears rolling uncontrollably down his cheeks. 

“I will obey, I will obey,” he whispered like a mantra, because it helped ease the pain until it was something almost bearable. 

Finally, Hector wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up on shaky legs, spirit neary crushed with the realisation of what awaited him if he tried to resist a direct command. He was fucked.

The forgemaster didn’t need to be told to continue - he sent the creature with the guards and gestured for the next. It didn’t look like he'd have a chance to cut off his finger while the three vampire commanders were there to control him, so all Hector had left was to hope that he’d survive the day and wait for another opportunity to go through with his plan.

But surviving was a challenge in and of itself. While working for Dracula Hector had learned to be careful about which devils he allowed to come out of hell and inhabit the bodies of the deceased. Half of a forgemaster’s work was controlling their creations, and some demons were worse than others. Some could not be controlled or reasoned with. Those were also the most likely to be summoned by amateurs, whose magic and understanding was often limited, and whose work was fueled by strong emotions, instead of control. The abominations that came forth when a necromancer was filled with hatred or grief, or by wielding an improper tool were the absolute worst and most dangerous that could be released upon the world.

Hector knew very well that in his weakened, angry, hurt state, trying to forge was dangerous. But he decided that he didn’t care anymore. Demon after demon rose from the dead bodies and Hector let them trash and fight and run off loose with nothing close to order or greater intent. The creatures he created were vile, aggressive, hungry for a fight, and they found it - clashing with the army that was right out their door. 

...

The day dragged on and torturously slow turned into night. The forgemaster was barely standing when the pile of corpses was exhausted, and he leaned on the warhammer for support, breathing heavily with exertion. He felt like he could collapse at any time and hoped that he’d finally be allowed some rest.

“Are we winning,” Morana asked Carmilla, who returned to the Great Hall with the angry air of a thunderstorm.

“They just breached the first gate! Does it look like we’re winning to you?!” Carmilla shouted and Morana blinked at her indignantly.

“Don’t blame your failure to plan on me,” Morana answered coolly.

Hector stiffened, knowing that the blonde would turn on him next. 

“You work too slowly, forgemaster,” Carmilla hissed threateningly. “It’s nightfall and our vampire army has joined the fighting, but I can’t help but wonder, what’s the point of keeping you around, when you can’t forge creatures fast enough!?”

“He’s doing his best,” Lenore stepped in to defend him again. “Can’t you see that he's exhausted and he’s finished all the bodies you gave him? Leave him alone, Carmilla!”

“Your weakness for him is getting annoying,” Carmilla responded, rounding on the redhead next. Hector’s chest tightened with fear of what she might do to Lenore. He stepped forward to intervene, but thought better of it when Carmilla turned savagely on him again. “And your work isn’t done! Behold, I have brought you more bodies!“

Hector looked to where she was pointing and saw the grand doors opening. Through them the next batch of bodies arrived, but unlike the previous ones, these were still standing on their own two feet - 

About four dosen live prisoners trembled, led together by a long metal chain, connecting them by the shackled wrists. The guards were pulling the string along, dragging the humans to the bloodstained centre of the Hall where Hector worked. 

Hector felt physically sick when he realised what he was going to be forced to do. In all his years as a forgemaster, he had never killed to work. Death had already come by the time Hector got involved, and even during the war, when the corpses that had been delivered to him were the indirect result of his forging, Hector had always disassociated himself with the killing, thinking of the bodies as nothing more than raw material.

However, saying that he didn’t want to do it was going to earn him nothing but more torment. So, Hector had to phrase his concern as if it had nothing to do with him, and thankfully he had a good reason to refuse forging in that way:

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” Hector warned the vampires. “A forgemaster should never use the bodies of the recently deceased. There is a chance that the soul might still be in there, and it could release demons that can become autonomous - they won’t act according to the forgemaster’s will. Forging like this could create intelligent monsters, which we cannot control!”

“Nonsense,” Carmilla dismissed. “We’ve seen Isaac kill and forge at the same time! Are you trying to lie to us, Hector?”

“Isaac’s probably got his dagger with him, and he’s a master with that tool,” Hector protested heatedly. “You can’t expect me to have the same level of control with a warhammer that you just dumped on me! This level of control takes years of practice…”

“I command you to do it, forgemaster,” Carmilla ordered and Hector was once again wrecked with throes of agony as his mind rebelled against the command. “Do as I tell you and forge night creatures from these prisoners! Now!”

“I will obey! I will obey,” Hector screamed, crying from pain. When the agony released him enough to be able to see what was around him, the forgemaster glimpsed the fearful look on the face of the poor, drained-looking woman who stood first in line.

“Please,” she whispered, when the guards pushed her towards him. Her eyes were wet and pleading. “For mercy’s sake, I beg you…”

Hector looked away from the tortured human’s face and nodded to the guards. He closed his eyes and lifted the hammer in his hands, concentrated his power into it. He heard screams and the wet sound of blood bubbling after the vampire guard slit the first throat. 

Hector grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut harder. 

…  
…  
...

“Sloppy,” Isaac commented to himself as he examined the misshapen form of the latest demon that Hector had sent against his army. 

Above the walls of Carmilla’s castle the forgemaster could see the windows of the Great Hall illuminate with blue light each time Hector raised a new night creature. The forging had gone on all day, but now that the moon was hanging in the sky, for some reason the other forgemaster’s efforts had ceased, and Isaac wondered what caused the respite. 

Meanwhile, the Isaac’s enormous horde overwhelmed the defenders of the castle’s second wall. A massive horned demon with flaming red eyes battered down the gates. Isaac’s warriors ran through the opening, slaughtering the besieged vampires on the other side and storming the third and final wall of the fortress.

The commander remained stationed on a hill near the castle overlooking the attack and using his will to direct the hordes, while remaining at a safe distance from the fighting. The tactic had proved useful, because when Carmilla had retaliated to his initial attack by sending Hector’s creatures to fight, Isaac had been glad to be far away from the fray. 

It appeared that Hector had lost his touch, making monsters that attacked indiscriminately - turning on friends and foes alike, and tearing down everything in their path. This lack of organisation and direction was so unlike Hector, that if it wasn’t for the blue light in their eyes, Isaac wouldn’t have believed that these disproportionate, bloodthirsty, mindless creatures were his former ally’s creations. 

And from the safe distance, Isaac could observe and anticipate Hector’s forging. It was odd that his former colleague was working as the castle was being attacked. It was very unlike Hector to be so shortsighted and unprepared. 

Another demonic abomination was slain and Isaac approached to examine its massive, ugly body. This wasn’t a creature that had been forged with serenity and control, like Hector used to do. This creature was created from strong negative emotions - anger, pride, grief - only such dangerous passions released demons that were so powerful, but also almost completely uncontrollable. 

“What are you doing, Hector,” Isaac wondered aloud. “When did you grow so overconfident and reckless?”

Isaac kept his eyes on the fort’s windows, but for a long time nothing happened. Had Carmilla finally decided to cut her losses and flee with the forgemaster and the rest of her entourage? Had Hector run out of corpses? Or had the other forgemaster simply collapsed from his uncontrolled exertion of power?

When no more enemy demons attacked, Isaac ordered his army to storm the final wall of the castle and enter the inner courtyard. It appeared that one way or another Hector was out of the game, which meant that it was time for Isaac to enter the battlefield and strike the killing blow.

The forgemaster mounted his horned ride and galloped through the battlefield, killing enemies and forging them into simple demons as he went, replenishing his army’s numbers in a manner of seconds. Soon there were no defenders left alive and the forgemaster rode through the castle’s first and the second gate, until he rejoined his forces at the third and final gate. The doors rattled on their hinges, battered down by Isaac’s hordes, the hardwood splintering as the gates shook, ready to fall. 

Isaac was sure of his victory when suddenly the nighttime breeze picked up, speeding up like a hurricane. It howled and blew so hard that some of the lighter winged demons were swept up in a tornado and flung up into the air as another, blinding beam of blue light erupted in the sky above the castle. All around him windows shattered and Isaac closed his eyes and covered his head with his hood to protect himself from the falling shards of glass.

A monstrous roar echoed from behind the walls and it gave Isaac and his army pause.

Something truly evil had just been let loose, and Isaac could feel the presence of potent dark magic that clung to his skin like spider silk. The air was charged with horror so thick that Isaac could almost see it. On the other side of the gates a thunderous commotion of mayhem shook the castle’s foundations and Isaac barely distinguished the high pitched cries of terror of vampires and humans amongst the noise.

It took a lot to unnerve one such as him, but the thought of what Hector had done made Isaac’s blood freeze in his veins. 

“Don’t stop,” Isaac commanded his forces when he saw the night creatures looking at him as if asking for reassurance. “Tear down the walls! Kill everyone on sight! And bring me Hector! I want him alive!”

As his demons scrambled to comply, behind the walls the screams intensified and so did the sounds of destruction, but Isaac could hardly distinguish one loud noise from another. The banging of the horned creature against the gate and the screeching of his own hordes nearly deafened him, yet Isaac didn’t need his hearing to know that something terrible was happening inside the castle. He just hoped that he’d get to Hector in time. Isaac still had a score to settle.

Suddenly a loud crash was heard as something massive burst through the roof of the main building, and a large shadow covered the moon. Isaac looked up and saw the head of an enormous abomination looking down on him and his army. The creature’s claws curved over the top of the wall as it leered down on them. so ugly that even its demonic brethren averted their many eyes from its face. 

Isaac forced himself to hold the behemoth’s gaze unflinchingly as it spoke to him. 

“Isaac,” the thing’s voice resonated into the forgemaster’s mind and the man instinctively covered his ears in an attempt to banish the brain-shattering noise of its voice. “For all the years that you’ve been forging, why did you never let me out? I wanted to get out so badly. You should have released me when you could!”

The thing spread it’s massive skeletal wings and flew up high in the air. It’s half-rotted chest expanded and then it opened its maul and breathed out a mixture of acid and poison upon Isaac’s army.

“I will destroy you and your little army, tear this castle to shreds and continue to the next settlement,” the archdemon continued. “I am so hungry, I could eat all the humans in the world! In fact, that’s exactly what I plan to do!”

The forgemaster cursed, taking shelter under a stone alcove, watching as his army was decimated. Isaac let out a shout of frustration and dove for another dent in the wall, narrowly missing being smothered in another wave of noxious liquid that the behemoth threw up on his horde.

His night creatures were screeching in dying throes, even the strongest of them reduced to steaming piles of flesh and bone. There was little hope to get through the last gate, but Isaac hadn’t come to conquer a castle. He only needed to capture one man, and for that, he didn’t really need the gate torn down.

Waiting for the right moment, Isaac darted out of his hideout and rounded a corner, finding a small patch of wall that could be climbed. Growling from exertion, Isaac scrambled up the wall, digging his fingers and boots into the small cracks between the stones, nearly slipping and falling, but continuing on. He reached a small ledge and looked up. There were no more handholds - the top of the wall was all but smooth. His only option was to try to jump the rest of the way, but it was an ambitious leap and the fall below could break his bones.

Gathering his resolve, Isaac made the jump and managed to grab the edge with both hands before one of them slipped off the polished stone, and the forgemaster dangled off his one hand. Shouting as the muscles of his arm strained and pulled, Isaac managed to swing up and grip the stone with his other hand as well, scrambling for purchase until he managed to pull himself up over the edge and on the bastillon’s top.

The scene on the other side was that of a nightmare. Blood and entrails were sprayed everywhere. The remains of bodies were splattered through a gaping hole in the main building’s walls and across the courtyard. Amongst the dead Isaac noticed Carmilla’s body torn in half, and those of a dozen more vampires. But there was no sign of Hector. 

Isaac looked over his shoulder. His army had now turned on the new enemy, but the behemoth seemed to have the advantage, flying over the battlefield and raining acid and poison on everything underneath - destroying demons, structures and vampires alike.

It was of no consequence, Isaac reminded himself, jumping over the wall and searching the courtyard. He ran through the hole in the wall into what had once been the castle’s Great Hall. In the centre there was a large stain of blood and the bodies of many humans torn to shreds, most of them still bleeding, which meant that they had only recently died. Isaac’s inside churned in disgust as he realised what must have transpired.

On the ground he spotted a large warhammer, broken to bits and covered in blood. There were also tracks in the rubble, which led away from the Great Hall and further and into the castle. Isaac couldn’t help but notice that they looked too small to belong to Hector, but he hadn’t forgotten about the other forgemaster’s petite vampire lover. 

Leaving the doomed battle behind, Isaac hurried to follow the tracks, following them through the castle. The trail of dirt and blood led him through several corridors and galleries, down a flight of stairs to the castle’s undercroft. When the trail disappeared, there was only one rough-cut stone tunnel to follow. No light illuminated the dark passage, but Isaac had his dagger and used its red glow to guide him down the steep passage. He ran, tiredless, swift and quiet as a shadow, until he reached the pale light on the other end, which took him outside into a snow covered valley, situated on the other side of the mountain. 

There was no trace of civilization in either direction - just a moonlit picture of untouched snow, stark mountainous peaks and the dark outline of pine trees in the distance.

“A secret escape route, how clever,” Isaac mused, pulling his cape’s hood over his head to protect his ears from the biting cold. 

It looked like he had ended up on the northern side of the mountain and the wind was even colder there. There were two sets of tracks in the deep snow and Isaac smiled wolfishly. He was closing in on his unwitting prey.

The sounds of the battle died in the distance, as did the ghostly green light that illuminated the sky every time the massive demon breathed acid. Isaac was glad to be leaving all of it behind - he didn’t know how he could stomach another ruined settlement populated only by corpses.

The forgemaster followed the couple’s trail in silence, soon catching up to his slow-moving quarry. He saw them in the distance, a tall man shambling through the snow behind a petite woman. But it was only when Isaac closed in further that he realised that the reason Hector was stumbling was that he was being dragged behind on a chain. Isaac followed close behind, but he was biding his time to attack, as he tried to understand what he was seeing. 

Unfortunately for him, the wind’s direction turned, blowing from behind. The redhead stopped suddenly, no doubt catching the scent of another human. The sudden stop caused Hector to stumble and topple in the knee-deep snow.

The vampire slowly turned to face Isaac. She rolled Hector’s metal leash in her delicate hand, tightening the lead. Hector stumbled to his feet, pulled closer to her as he stared with wide eyes towards Isaac. 

A thrill passed through Isaac. At last they met again. He wondered what Hector felt, now that they were standing face to face once more.

“Why are you here, forgemaster,” the vampire addressed him in a pleasant, reasonable voice. “The castle is yours. You’ve won. Why have you abandoned your army and chased after me?”

At least she was polite, Isaac thought. He tried to respond in kind.

“It’s not the castle that I want, and I have no quarrel with you,” Isaac told her. “I’ve come for Hector. Give him to me and I will let you leave in peace.”

“My name is Lenore,” the vampire introduced herself courteously, giving a small bow. “You must be Isaac.”

Isaac nodded, a little thrown by his adversary’s antics, but guarded all the same. His eyes slid over to Hector, who looked like he was barely standing, body shuddering from the cold in his light-weight clothing, but looking defiant as his eyes darted between Isaac and Lenore.

“Yes, I am. And I have come only to settle an old score, so surrender him to me and I will let you live,” Isaac repeated a little impatiently, nodding to Hector.

“If you were planning to make such bold demands, you should have brought your army along,” Lenore tilted her head to the side, a predatory smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Why would I just give you what’s mine for nothing in return? That’s no way to negotiate, forgemaster.”

“Let him have me,” Hector interjected, surprising Isaac with his words. “If you refuse, Isaac will just kill you!”

“Shush now, pet! I am in the middle of negotiations, if you haven’t noticed,” Lenore waved Hector’s concern away as if he was nothing.

Something about the way she spoke to Hector made Isaac’s throat tighten. He remembered a time when he had accounted for less than nothing. He had been a young boy, rescued from the streets by a cruel man, who had turned him into his slave. His master had talked down to him like Lenore spoke to Hector - as if he was a thing that wasn’t allowed to have a voice.

“I won’t let you leave with him,” Isaac repeated for the final time, his voice turning cold. He had been wrong to think that this vampire was any better than the rest. Her treatment of Hector betrayed exactly who she really was under her courteous facade. However, she had been polite to him, so Isaac decided to give her one last chance. “Your bargain is that if you surrender him willingly, you get to keep your life.”

“That’s not a satisfactory deal,” Lenore narrowed her eyes. “I think you are making the same mistake as everyone else, Isaac. You are underestimating me.”

“He is a skilled fighter, Lenore,” Hector tried to warn her again, making Isaac scowl in annoyance. “He can take you down in a fight! Just let me go and leave!”

“Let you go?! You belong to me,” Lenore scolded him. “And do you think that he’s going to treat you better than I do? No one will ever be as kind towards you as I have been, pet! You should count yourself lucky that you ended up with a gentle owner like me.”

“Enough,” Isaac announced. “Give me Hector, now!”

Lenore snook her head and laughed.

“You boys never learn…”

“Isaac!” Hector shouted, lifting his hand and the warning was as helpful as it was unexpected, because it gave the other forgemaster all that he needed to anticipate the vampire’s attack.

When Lenore blinked out of existence and materialised next to Isaac, his dagger awaited her. The redhead looked down in horror to the hole in her stomach where the blade disappeared into her. 

Screeching, Lenore dematerialised again and appeared further away. Isaac cursed himself from miscalculating - he hadn’t managed to deliver a killing blow.

“Hector, protect me,” she screeched, blood pouring from her stomach. “Kill the forgemaster! Kill Isaac!”

Hector looked between her and Isaac and hesitation briefly flashed across his features before he grabbed his head and began screaming in agony. He fell to his knees in the snow, shaking. 

Isaac’s eyes widened as his former colleague’s body was encircled with barbed tendrils of black magic. 

“I will obey, I will obey,” Hector screamed, his voice breaking. “I am loyal to you! I will obey!”

Isaac stayed back, watching as the magic loosened its grip on Hector. His former ally slowly got up on shaky legs, turning his blue eyes to Isaac, now full of killing intent. 

Isaac’s mouth twitched in a half smile. He had waited for that moment and it had finally come. Isaac couldn’t deny to himself that he was going to enjoy it.

“Come on,” he challenged. “I am right here.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Hector said even as he began closing the distance through the snow with determination. He gathered the metal chain of his leash in his hands, preparing to use it as a weapon. “I am sorry.”

Hector made a dash over the final steps, spinning the end of the chain like a whip. Isaac caught the length with his dagger, letting the chain wrap around the blade and his upper arm and then pulling. Hector was jostled forward towards him and Isaac met him with a fist to the face and a knee in the gut. Hector fell on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, soaking the snow. He remained there, shaking his head and looking dazed. Isaac put his foot on his former colleague’s chest to keep him down and looked at Lenore.

The moment their eyes met the vampire turned around and took off running - covering large distances with her preternatural speed - blinking in and out of existence as she dashed downhill. Soon she was too far away for Isaac to clearly see, disappearing into the pine woods at the bottom of the valley.

Satisfied with that outcome, Isaac wasn’t prepared for his boot to be grabbed and his former comrade to throw him off, sending Isaac off balance and on his back in the snow. 

Isaac cursed, but he wasn’t quick enough to get up, because the thick snow was pressing him down, and Hector managed to crawl on top of him, attempting to wrestle the dagger from Isaac’s hands and choke him at the same time.

Isaac kneed Hector in the stomach again but it wasn’t enough. The silver-haired man kept fighting, trying to kill him with a force and violence that Isaac had never expected from him. 

Hector used the chain to hit Isaac on the head and the forgemaster heard a ringing in his skull when the frozen metal smacked him across the brow. Blood poured into his eyes and all Isaac could see was red - red on his own hands, red on Hector’s bleeding face, red in the snow around them.

Finally Isaac grabbed Hector’s leash and pulled down hard, making the other man scream as the collar rubbed against the man’s bruised neck. Hector fell down into the snow beside him and Isaac climbed on top of his back, pressing the other forgemaster’s face into the snow. 

Isaac held him down for as long as it took for Hector’s struggles to lose their vigor. He only let the other man take a breath when he was certain that he had him immobilized. 

“It’s over, Hector,” Isaac growled, sitting astride the other man’s back and pulling his head up by the hair. “Surrender and I won’t kill you right now!”

“I can’t,” Hector choked out as he kept struggling, trying to break free of Isaac’s hold. “The ring - it controls me!”

Isaac finally noticed the dainty band on Hector’s hand. The thing reeked of magic and Isaac realised that it was the source of the compulsion spell, which he had witnessed earlier. Suddenly his path was shown clearly to him, and without hesitation Isaac acted. 

Isaac pressed Hector down with his knees and grabbed the man’s hand. He hooked the edge of the dagger under the deceptively thin band and pulled.

Hector struggled, trying to dislodge him and although the ring was delicate, when Isaac tried to break it, its inner magic resisted him. Hector howled in agony, the removal of the ring clearly torturing him, but Isaac didn’t stop nor did he hesitate. 

Concentrating his will through the dagger, Isaac broke the ring’s magic and the band shattered with a blast of red sparks. 

As soon as it was done Hector stopped struggling and went so limp and quiet that for a moment Isaac worried that he had accidentally killed him. The forgemaster removed his knee from Hector’s back and touched the man’s neck to check for a pulse. 

Unbelievably, even after all the torture, Hector was still breathing and his heart was fluttering very rapidly, like that of a captured bird. Feeling a measure of sympathy for Hector’s suffering, Isaac moved away from his former colleague, letting him catch his breath in peace.

When Hector finally pushed himself off from the snow, he looked shaken and confused, staring at Isaac with disbelief and none of his earlier aggression. There was a red smear on the snow where Hector’s face had been, and Isaac finally had the time to notice the recent claw marks on the other forgemaster’s face - proof that he’d been beaten by his captors prior to Isaac breaking his nose.

“Why haven't you killed me yet,” Hector asked and his teeth chattered from the cold. “Isn’t that what you came here to do?”

Isaac could ask himself the same question. He had wanted to make Hector suffer for his mistakes, but it appeared that his former ally had already been tortured enough. Everything that Isaac had discovered before was contradictory, but when one factored in the leash, the claw marks and the ring, the picture became much clearer.

So, if Hector had been used in the way Isaac suspected, wasn’t his punishment enough? Didn’t that mean that Isaac could just finish him off and send him to hell, where Hector would have an eternity to contemplate his sins? And if so, why didn't it sit right with Isaac?

“I have to think about what I’m going to do with you,” Isaac admitted slowly, looking down at Hector who still sat, shaking in the snow. 

He walked a few paces away from the other forgemaster, keeping a safe distance just in case Hector got any more ideas, and took out the box with the looking mirror from his satchel.

“Sir Mirror, show me my wish,” Isaac commanded, thinking of shelter from the freezing cold.

The mirror arranged itself before his eyes and showed Isaac a traveler’s inn, but Isaac dismissed the vision, needing something closer to where they were - any place to provide shelter from the snow.

The mirror showed him a cave, not too far from where they were currently standing. 

“Come with me,” Isaac turned to Hector. The other forgemaster was looking at him intently, with his mouth firmly shut and eyes guarded, keeping his thoughts and emotions to himself.

Isaac knew that he didn’t have to compel or threaten Hector into going with him. Alone in the freezing night and dressed as he was, neither of them could survive to see the morning. So Isaac began to walk, trusting that the other man would follow him.

…


	3. The darkest night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac’s finally captured Hector but the other man is not as he remembers him to be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to everyone who encouraged this fic with their comments, and to my friend and beta Moonstonemama for her endless support!!!
> 
> Note: This fic and its author don’t endorse religion or lack of it. Any views expressed in this chapter are fictional and just for fun, seen through the character’s eyes, not the author’s.

The moon was slowly setting behind the tall mountain peaks, plunging the snow covered valley into near complete darkness. The stars looked distant and cold, and the wind wailed hollowly between the rocky craigs, stealing away whatever warmth still clung to the forgemasters’ bodies. 

Isaac pushed on through the hip-deep snow. They sought shelter in a cave, which had appeared close in the looking mirror, but had turned out to be further away than anticipated. 

Some distance behind, Hector followed him, stumbling through the thick snow as if only barely awake. Just as Isaac saw the dark chasm of the cave’s entrance ahead, his colleague fell forward and refused to get up when Isaac called his name. 

Resigned to his fate, Isaac turned around and began the torturous walk uphill back to where his former colleague had collapsed. The freezing night was leaching the last of his own strength, but Isaac refused to give up. 

Hector remained lying face down in the snow by the time Isaac reached him. The other man groaned but remained otherwise unresponsive when Isaac shook him and with a heavy sigh, Isaac picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. At least it was a little warmer with Hector half-draped over him, Isaac mused as he panted and growled from exertion while carrying him the rest of the way to the shelter.

The inside of the cave was considerably warmer than the outside and soon enough Isaac found some dry wood to get a fire going, making it almost livable if one stood right next to the flames. 

Hector was sprawled on the ground, just where Isaac had left him. His blue eyes were barely cracked open as he observed Isaac’s movements tiredly.

“If you fall asleep you will never wake up,” Isaac informed him and went over to roughly shake Hector to full wakefulness.

“What makes you think I care,” Hector groaned. 

“I didn’t come all the way here to let you simply die from hypothermia,” Isaac sighed tiredly. 

He kneeled on the dark stone surface of the cave’s floor and got to work on removing Hector’s snow-soaked clothing.

As soon as his hands started pulling the hem of Hector’s tunic up, the other forgemaster jerked fully awake. 

“What are you doing? Stop,” Hector hissed, waking up more and more with every word, batting Isaac’s hands away with returning vigour.

“Stay in these clothes and the best you can hope for is pneumonia,” Isaac couldn’t hide his exasperation. “You can take them off yourself, but if you don’t I will strip you by force!”

Hector crawled away from him with a look of panic on his face. Isaac closed his eyes and shook his head in annoyance. He got up to his feet and walked over to the other side of the campfire, starting to take off his own drenched clothing. 

Keeping his back to Hector, Isaac removed his cape and tunic, neatly arranging each item of clothing on the rocks near the fire, so that the garments could dry. He heard no movement from Hector, but he could feel Hector’s eyes on him the entire time.

Finally Isaac finished stripping and sat naked close to the fire, tucking his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs to preserve as much body heat as possible. The forgemaster kept his gaze soft, not sparing a glance to his former ally as Hector reluctantly followed his example, slowly undressing and arranging his clothing close to himself, as if afraid that Isaac was going to steal it.

When he was finished, Hector copied Isaac’s folded stance, sitting close to the fire across from the other forgemaster. 

Isaac focused on rubbing feeling into his hands and feet. His extremities were so frozen that they had become numb. As they slowly began to warm up his fingers and toes started to hurt.

Hector started to shiver and soon he was trembling so hard that his teeth were chattering loudly. Isaac took that as a good sign - Hector’s body was fighting for survival. But after a little while, Isaac saw Hector lie back down on the cold ground.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Isaac warned him without looking at him.

“I really don’t care anymore,” Hector’s voice sounded raspy from exhaustion. “I just want to sleep.”

“It would be the last nap of your life,” Isaac reminded him.

Hector didn’t respond.

Isaac sighed heavily. The other man was acting like a child again. Just like Isaac remembered him - stubborn, self-centered and immature. It wasn’t like Hector was that much younger than him, but Isaac supposed that the way Hector had been ignored by his parents played a big role in how much he had failed to develop. 

“Come over here,” Isaac ordered sternly.

“Why,” Hector asked after a long, oppressive silence.

“So that I can make sure that you stay alive,” Isaac informed him matter-of-factly.

“And why would you want to help me,” Hector asked suspiciously. 

“Because I walked halfway across the world to find you, Hector,” Isaac met his eyes. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, and I won't let you escape this so easily!”

Hector was glaring back at him fiercely, and Isaac found it hard not to look at the red claw marks that marred the other man’s pretty face and somehow managed to make him look even more exotic than he already was. Hector was a traitor and all these little details about his appearance were of no consequence.

Eventually Hector pushed up from the cave floor and Isaac averted his gaze to allow the other forgemaster some privacy as he dragged himself unsteadily to Isaac’s side of the campfire. 

Hector slowly got down to sit beside him and curled up into a tight ball, making himself as small as possible. Their elbows accidentally brushed and both men flinched away from each other‘s touch. 

Isaac fought down the unwanted shiver that tickled down his side, so quick and unexpected that he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Goosbumps were making his arms prickle and Isaac curled tighter on himself, cursing his body’s reactions and hoping that the raised skin could be attributed to the cold air. 

It had been a really long while since Isaac had last been this close to another human being. So long that he didn’t care to think about it.

Not that he wanted to be near Hector in particular… But he couldn’t deny that he still felt the ghost of the tiny touch between them, even as the minutes ticked by and the other man ignored him.

Isaac occupied himself with staring into the flames until his eyes began to water from the smoke. His arms and legs were slowly warming up, and he could see that Hector was no longer trembling. Neither of them said anything nor looked at each other and the silence was getting uncomfortable. Isaac supposed that it was because Hector wasn’t just any human being. There had been a time when a camaraderie had existed between the two forgemasters, instead of the heavy silence that currently reigned between them.

In such moments of uncertainty, Isaac missed the barbed whip and the peace and clarity of mind that self-flagellating brought him. However, he had given up on the practice in the desert when his body had been too weak to sustain self-injury, and in the void that was left behind, he had rediscovered his faith. 

It had been more than a week since Isaac had last prayed. And although he no longer believed that he needed to observe certain hours or honour all the practices associated with praying, Isaac still found a measure of relief in speaking to his God. 

So he stood up, gathered his tepid wet clothing and got dressed. 

“Where are you going,” Hector asked, and Isaac wondered if he imagined the note of anxiety in the other man’s voice.

“To pray,” Isaac explained as he walked further into the cave, gathering clean earth. 

He felt his former colleague watch him as he cleaned himself by scrubbing his forearms, feet, neck and face with rocks and dust. 

“I didn’t know that you were religious,” Hector ventured after observing him for a while.

“When we met, I had all but lost my faith,” Isaac divulged, standing up and walking towards the entrance of the cave, in order to gauge the direction, which he had to face. He then spread his cloak on the ground and knelt on top of it.

“You seem filled with curiosity,” Isaac observed, closing his eyes to clear his mind.

“I don’t understand you,” Hector admitted. 

“What don’t you understand,” Isaac asked patiently, without opening his eyes.

“Why do you think God wants to hear your prayers? Surely he must hate people like us,” Hector argued, but his lack of faith didn’t bother Isaac. 

“I know the doubts of which you speak,” Isaac smiled slightly, “I used to think the same way. But then I realised, since God created everything in the world, then he created you and me too. If he’s all powerful, then wasn’t he the one to bestow our powers upon us? The way I see it, we are a necessary part of his plan.”

Hector was silent for a long time, but Isaac waited for his answer.

“If God did this to me on purpose, then I’d rather burn in hell than pray for his mercy,” Hector answered bitterly. “This ability is cursed, and it only has the power to cause pain.”

“Would you give it up, if you could,” Isaac challenged mildly. 

“No,” Hector admitted after some hesitation. “I’m nothing without it, but if I could turn back time and give it up before I started, then I would. Life would have been much better, if I had turned out normal.”

“I disagree. I believe this is a gift and that God chose us for a reason,” Isaac answered thoughtfully.

“And I don’t believe in God,” Hector informed him cruelly. “But I have started to believe in the Devil, because I’ve seen his work. And I’m certain that if God truly exists then he doesn’t hear your prayers. You’re simply wasting your time. Better accept that there is a special place in hell reserved just for the likes of us, and that you’ll end up in there with me, no matter how much you pray now.”

“But I’m not praying for salvation,” Isaac countered. 

“What do you want from God then?”

“Peace,” Isaac sighed. “Only peace.”

Hector didn’t bother him anymore until Isaac completed his prayer. True to what he had said, after offering his thanks to God for allowing him to achieve his goal and capture Hector alive, Isaac prayed to the higher power to bring him peace of mind, and to show him the right path to pursue next.

When he next looked at Hector, he found the man sprawled in a more relaxed pose, one hand covering his lap, while the other propped him up to a sitting position. The look Hector was sending him was annoyed, but Isaac only smirked to himself. He could bet that deep down inside, Hector envied him for having found a way to connect to a higher purpose.

“My parents were religious too,” Hector told him, looking up as Isaac neared him. 

“From what you told me of your father, he wasn’t a pious man,” Isaac prompted him to continue. The night was long and he preferred to spend it on a conversation, rather than the strained silence from before.

“No, he wasn’t,” Hector affirmed, but he said no more. Isaac wasn’t surprised. Hector’s parents were a sensitive topic, which his former ally rarely wanted to discuss. 

“I imagine that it’s not religion that makes a man’s character good or bad,” Isaac divulged his thoughts, crouching on the other side of the fire. His clothes were still damp, but they were starting to dry properly. 

“Sure,” Hector growled, clearly not in a talkative mood, no matter how Isaac tried.

Isaac wondered what it must have been like for Hector to actually have parents, but only to get abused by them. Meanwhile, Hector remained undressed, even though his clothes were dry enough to put back on. It almost seemed like Hector had forgotten about them, and Isaac wondered if he should remind the other forgemaster to get dressed. He decided against it - it was none of his concern. 

This time silence felt somehow more companionable than before. The wind howled outside, but the fire had warmed the cavern up enough to get comfortable. Soon dawn was going to break and the new day would begin.

Isaac’s thoughts turned to his night creatures, wondering what had become of his army. He reached over for his satchel, taking out the box with the looking mirror.

“Sir Mirror, show me my wish,” Isaac uttered the familiar command and the mirror flew out of the box in front of him. His own reflection stared back at him before it dimmed and was replaced by the remains of the Castle of Styria. 

The ruins were steaming with noxious green fumes. The archdemon, which Hector had released, was rolling amongst the corpses and the half-demolished fortress like a giant toddler amongst its toys, destroying everything in its path with it’s enormous half-rotten body and smearing the debris in corpse slick.

There didn’t appear to be any survivors left at the scene.

“Hector,” Isaac called the other man over. 

Reluctantly Hector got up, still naked as the day he’d been born, and joined Isaac to look at the visions in the mirror. Isaac kept his eyes firmly forward and the two forgemasters observed the archdemon in somber silence.

“What were you thinking,” Isaac uttered at last.

Hector lowered his head. 

“I made a mistake,” Hector answered quietly. “I was tired and I warned Carmilla about what could happen, but she didn’t listen… She thought that I could just forge the corpses of the recently deceased with any old piece of junk...”

Hector covered his face with one hand, turning away in shame, but from the corner of his eyes Isaac could still see the bitter frown underneath. 

“Her soldiers killed all the prisoners while I was forging… I couldn’t stop the archdemon from breaking through the veil when the souls got sucked in and -” Hector shook his head. “I couldn’t stop it, even though I tried. He grew stronger in a manner of seconds. The hammer broke in my hands and I think I lost consciousness. Then I woke up and Lenore was carrying me away.”

“Did Carmilla have the same power over you like Lenore did,” Isaac asked. A part of him wanted to condemn Hector for what he had done, but a stronger part of him understood the other forgemaster perfectly well. 

“Yes,” Hector sighed heavily, avoiding Isaac’s eyes. “They all did. All four of them”

Isaac didn’t know what to say. He had seen what the ring did to Hector when he had hesitated to obey Lenore’s command. He supposed that Hector could no more be blamed for what had happened than the hammer, which he had used. The archdemon’s release was Carmilla’s fault and she had already paid with her life. 

“Many people will die because of me,” Hector added so quietly that Isaac could barely hear him.

“People always die,” Isaac reminded him, letting another injustice go. “Someone will take care of it.”

“Is that the attitude that God would endorse,” Hector challenged him and it sparked Isaac’s ire.

“What do you propose I do then,” Isaac growled. “Should I kill you for what you did?”

“I still don’t know why you haven’t,” Hector admitted.

Isaac avoided the question by turning to the mirror once again and asking it to see the remains of his horde of night creatures. 

The looking mirror showed him that a small band of demons had escaped and were hiding in a forest, not too far away from the ruined castle. Isaac commanded them to wait for him through the mirror and called upon his steadfast horned ride to come to the cave. With any luck, the demon horse was going to arrive by sunrise and they could use it to ride back to the portal to the magician’s tower from which they had arrived.

“Where did you get the looking mirror,” Hector asked, leaning a little closer to inspect it. 

“It was a gift,” Isaac told him, closing the box. A tiny note of pleasure stole into his voice, regardless of how hard he tried to hide it.

Hector studied him curiously.

“That’s… kind of nice,” he settled for in the end and Isaac couldn’t suppress a small smile at the memory of the merchant, who had given him the mirror.

“Yes,” Isaac agreed.

“Did you use this mirror to find me,” Hector inquired.

“I did,” Isaac confirmed, meeting Hector’s eyes straight on. The knowledge of what he had seen passed between them as plainly as if it had been said - Hector’s naked body sleeping on the floor, Hector making love… or being forced to.

Isaac was certain that Hector knew exactly what he had seen, or suspected it at least.

“I can remove the collar from your neck, if you wish,” Isaac offered after some thought. A part of him felt a little apologetic for having pried on something that he should never have seen. 

Hector physically flinched away from him. His hands went up as if to defend himself.

“Or you can keep it,” Isaac frowned, displeased with the other man’s reaction. 

Hector’s hands touched the lock of the collar, situated on the back of his neck.

“I want it off,” he said slowly, but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion. “Why would you offer to take it off? Won’t it be easier for you to drag me along, if you keep it on?”

“What kind of a monster do you take me for,” Isaac leaned away, a little hurt as well as annoyed.

“Some monsters make it a point to reassure me of their humanity,” Hector answered just as apprehensively. Isaac could see Hector’s proverbial hackles rising, and was briefly reminded of how bitterly Hector had fought him on the snowy slopes. 

The wounds on Isaac’s brow and the bruises on his body buzzed at the reminder. The strange, sick part of Isaac, which still craved pain from the barbed whip, which he had forsworn, badly wanted a repeat performance of their squabble. But Isaac recognised the weakness of his own flesh and denied those urges, in favour of remaining calm.

“If you want me to help you get this thing off, you have to trust me enough to let me touch it,” Isaac informed him levelly. “Say no and I won’t offer again.”

Hector stared him down for a long moment, as if trying to find a hidden meaning in his words. Isaac met his eyes calmly, until his former colleague relented and lowered his head in resignation.

“Fine, you’ve got my permission,” Hector said, turning his back to Isaac and pushing his almost shoulder-length hair out of the way.

Isaac kept his attention strictly on the collar and the lock, even if his eyes involuntarily scanned the bruises on Hector’s neck and dipped lower, catching a glimpse of the man’s broad back and the dip of his spine between his shoulder blades. Isaac hardened his gaze, not letting his eyes stray further and pressed the dagger inside the lock, concentrating his magic to destroy the magical barrier.

Hector hissed when the metal heated, but then the lock fell apart and the collar slid off his neck alongside it. 

Isaac put the blade away and Hector turned back to face him. The other forgemaster’s lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he bit them and shook his head, hiding his glistening eyes behind his ashen locks. Isaac looked away, trying to ignore the rawness of the other man’s gratitude and the sadness that came with it. 

“I thought I would never see you again,” Hector whispered, his voice thick and poignant. “I thought you were dead, and often I envied you for it.”

Isaac had no response for that. He had known Hector was alive and had counted on finding him, in order to personally end his life. But he had never expected to find Hector after the other man had suffered wounds such as those, and he wasn’t certain if further punishment was the right course of action anymore.

“Careful what you wish for,” Isaac settled for in the end.

“I am not afraid to die anymore,” Hector admitted softly. “There are worse things than death.”

Isaac wasn’t too surprised to hear that.

“I understand what you mean,” Isaac divulged cautiously, careful not to disclose too much of his own personal pain.

Hector glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and then grimly looked away again.

“Why did you try to help that vampire, if all she did was leash you and cause you pain,” Isaac asked, remembering how Hector had tried to warn Lenore against fighting him.

“I feel like I owed her that. In her own way, she was kind to me,” Hector shrugged listlessly.

“How was she kind to you,” Isaac inquired, trying not to show the contempt he felt for Hector’s delusions.

The other forgemaster opened his mouth as if to speak, but then hesitated and thought better of it.

“I don’t know,” Hector admitted, shaking his head miserably.

“What she did to you was sick,” Isaac informed him severely. “If you don’t realise it, then you must be losing your mind.”

Hector gaped at him in surprise, but oddly he seemed a little comforted by Isaac’s statement, rather than hurt by it.

“I must be indeed,” he agreed quietly.

“Try to rest,” Isaac bid him, getting up from where they sat together and walking over to the other side of the firepit. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Where are you taking me,” Hector frowned in incomprehension.

“You will see,” Isaac answered cryptically. 

He wasn’t sure of that himself.

…  
…  
…

The sun’s rays were already peeking inside the cave when Hector finally forced himself to put his cold, damp clothing back on. Although they had dried for hours, the tunic and pants still felt miserable to wear, but at least they were no longer unbearably wet. 

His new captor had spent the morning waiting by the cave’s entrance, leaving Hector alone to stew in his uncertainties and bleak expectations. Left alone by the fire, Hector toyed with his collar. The forgemaster tried to refrain from constantly touching the place where it had once rubbed against his neck, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He couldn’t stop thinking of how Lenore had put it there, and now that it was off, strange conflicting emotions tightened his chest. 

Hector felt unsettled without it. Even clothed, he still felt oddly naked without its constant presence against his skin. It was also confusing that Isaac had volunteered to take it off, and done so quickly, with respect. 

The whole night had been strange. It had been a while, since Hector had spent that much time with another person while remaining completely unmolested. 

It felt… nice.

Isaac called his name and Hector hurried to toss the collar into the fire before getting up and following the man’s voice to the entrance of the cave.

The sun was shining outside and it reflected off from the snow so blindingly that Hector’s eyes couldn’t adjust. He had spent so long in the perpetual night of Carmilla’s castle that he had become unaccustomed to the brightness of the sun. 

However, even if he had to close his eyes to keep from tearing up from the light, Hector could still appreciate the warmth of the day. He lifted his face to the sky and smiled, feeling the sun’s rays caress his skin like the soft hands of a lover.

“We should leave,” Isaac interrupted the perfect moment. “Come, you will have time to enjoy the daylight as we ride.”

Hector opened his eyes and noticed that Isaac’s ride was in fact a large black demon that looked almost like a unicorn. 

“What do you mean by we,” Hector asked suspiciously, seeing that there was only one mount. Carmilla had no qualms about dragging him tied after her horse. He didn’t expect anything else from Isaac, even if he had once counted the other forgemaster as the closest thing he had to a friend.

Isaac mounted the demon horse’s back with an impressive show of agility that made Hector raise his eyebrows in admiration. The horse stomped around the deep snow, approaching Hector and the forgemaster stared dumbfounded at the hand that was extended to him.

“I meant, we will ride together,” Isaac told him, offering his broad hand for Hector to take.

Hector swallowed hard, trying and failing to believe his luck. Isaac wanted him to get on the horse. He wasn’t going to get dragged behind… Could it be true? Was it a trick?

Isaac wriggled his fingers impatiently and Hector didn’t let himself hesitate longer. He took the offered hand, and strained as Isaac pulled him up.

Hector found himself astride the horse’s back in front of the other forgemaster. He felt Isaac’s chest expand and fall behind him, and the sudden closeness sent a shiver down his spine. Isaac threw his long white cape around them both and Hector held his breath, grateful for the warmth, but anxious and uncertain of why he was being treated so kindly.

Isaac clicked his tongue and the demonic animal started trotting through the snow, jostling Hector out of his thoughts. He had never ridden without a saddle before and it felt odd to have nothing to hold and nowhere to tuck his feet for support. It felt even stranger when Isaac put his arms around him under the cover of the thick white cape, grabbing the demon’s long black mane and stirring it south.

The undead animal accelerated to a gallop and Hector found himself sliding backwards until his back was pressed against Isaac’s chest.

“Hold the mane for support and squeeze your thighs around the demon’s back,” Isaac advised, so close that his breath warmed the back of Hector’s neck. He tried to ignore the sparks of electricity that ran down his back at the ghostly contact. 

The forgemaster did as he was told and found that he was regaining his bearing. To his relief, he even managed to lean forward to make some space between their bodies as they rode.

Traveling that way was bumpy and after a few hours Hector stopped worrying about whether he was touching Isaac’s arms or chest, because all he could feel was the soreness of his backside and legs. 

Around noon Isaac deemed it a good time to stop for a break and Hector felt awfully grateful to be allowed to get off.

As soon as he slid off the creature’s back he fell on the snow. His legs were so numb and sore, he couldn’t get up. With great difficulty, the forgemaster crawled over to a fallen log, leaning against it and stretching his abused appendages. 

“Does it hurt,” Isaac inquired mildly.

“Like hell,” Hector grit between his teeth. He hated himself for appearing so weak in front of Isaac. Once there had been respect between them, and now Hector had sunk so low…

He didn’t dare meet the other forgemaster’s dark eyes, from fear that he might see pity in them.

“You’ll get used to it,” Isaac told him plainly. The lack of mocking surprised Hector.

“I wish that you could let me walk the rest of the way,” he offered, only half-jokingly.

“We are almost at our destination,” Isaac informed him. “I left a distance mirror portal opened in a nearby forest. It’s no more than an hour’s ride away.”

“Alright then,” Hector agreed. 

He didn’t dare to complain or show too much weakness, so he straightened up and pretended to be fine as he let Isaac pull him up on the demon horse once more.

...

They rode for a little more, and it was torturous. By the time they approached the pine groove that Isaac had described, Hector was sure that his backside was black with bruising. He wondered how Isaac had managed to travel halfway across the world in that way, but resolved not to ask.

They came across a road that went in their direction and followed it, slowing down to a trot, which was considerably more bearable than the gallope. As they traveled further into the forest, Hector noticed that there were no birds singing and no signs of animal life.

“Something’s wrong here,” Isaac noted quietly. 

“I feel it too,” Hector agreed.

They continued on cautiously, and soon started to smell noxious chemicals poisoning the brisk woodland breeze. 

Isaac reached into his satchel and took out a piece of red cloth. Even tattered and worn, Hector immediately recognised Isaac's sash. Remembering its twin, the one that Dracula had given him as a part of his general’s uniform, brought sudden tears to Hector’s eyes. He blinked them away before Isaac could notice.

Isaac put his dagger to the fabric and wordlessly sliced it in two, making Hector gasp. He couldn’t understand how Isaac had the heart to destroy it. Hector was prepared to give so much to have his back as a simple reminder of those happier days - 

Then Isaac gave one half to Hector and told him to cover his mouth and nose with it. For a long moment Hector simply stared at the red fabric, unable to move. He tried hard not to start crying...

Hector got himself together and tied the cloth over his face before Isaac had time to reconsider his kindness. Hector reminded himself to take anything that was given to him, while it was still offered. He had learned one thing as Carmilla’s prisoner - his captors’ good will eventually always ran out. It was best to make the most out of it, while it was still there.

The forgemasters kept riding until they found the source of the stench. There was a patch of forest where the trees had been melted by demonic acid. The ground itself looked too rotten to pass through, so they tried to circle around the parameter of the destruction. 

Isaac said nothing, but Hector could hear the accusations in his stifling silence.

That destruction was all Hector’s fault. It wasn’t often that Hector felt remorse, but seeing what the archdemon had done to the forest made Hector feel deeply ashamed. He wondered if it would have been better if Carmilla had just killed him in her rage, instead of being a coward and doing what he had known not to do. Many more places were going to be destroyed, and many animals were going to lose their homes. Once again Hector cursed himself for being what he was, and all the mistakes he made in his life.

Finally they left the ruined area behind and found the place where Isaac had left the distance mirror’s portal and most of his surviving demons had gathered. 

Hector dismounted first, trying to hide the pain in his legs as he cautiously assessed the many red-eyed night creatures, which awaited the return of their master. All of them seemed calm and completely under Isaac’s control. Just another reminder of Hector’s most recent fiasco...

Isaac began sending the night creatures through the portal, waiting until the very last one had passed through before motioning to Hector to come closer. 

Hector had been standing by a tree, running his hand over the bark and enjoying the warmth of life that pulsed underneath. It made him sad that it was time to go. Isaac had been kind to him so far, but Hector had no illusions about what was to come. Once they reached their destination, Isaac was going to reveal his true intent. Hector could only hope that for the sake of their former camaraderie, Isaac was going to make it quick.

“Let’s go,” Isaac prompted and with a sigh of resignation, Hector obeyed the command and went through the portal.

He arrived in a large, empty hall made of stone. It had no windows and Hector could tell by the mild smell of damp and mold that it was somewhere underground. He looked around with apprehension, his mind returning to the prison cell in Carmilla’s castle. 

“Follow me,” Isaac said as soon as he closed the portal behind them. 

Reconciled with his fate, Hector followed the order, trailing after the other forgemaster through a door and up a spiraling staircase. To his great surprise they ended up standing outside again, amidst a ruined city. 

“Where are we,” he asked, looking around the strange settlement under the cool rays of the late afternoon sun.

“A safe place where we can rest before we continue to our next destination,” Isaac informed him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hector tried to hide his surprise. He had thought that the basement was his final destination… 

“Let me show you where everything is,” Isaac offered and began walking through the crumbled city square. Hector followed him, feeling utterly confused by what was going on. 

The stones beneath their feet were covered in rubble and dry blood. It was evident that a massacre had occurred, but he didn’t dare to ask any unnecessary questions.

“Here’s the well,” Isaac made their first stop. He drew out a bucket of clean water, drank some and offered the rest to Hector. 

Hector stared at him in mild shock, but accepted and thanked the other forgemaster before he drank. His throat had been parched and the draught of cool water felt like heaven.

As they continued to walk in silence, Hector stared at Isaac’s back in disbelief. Why was Isaac being so fucking kind to him?! What was he after? What did he plan to do...

They reached a building that looked untouched by the destruction, but it was also unfinished. The strange sight forced Hector to tear his eyes away from Isaac’s back for long enough to notice that all of the buildings around them were unfinished, instead of ruined. 

“What manner of a place is this,” Hector just couldn’t help asking. 

“This was the idea of a mad magician, who enslaved an entire village to build a city,” Isaac explained curtly. “I had to kill all of his mind controlled workers and the wizard himself, in order to take over this site and create my army.”

“You killed an entire village,” Hector uttered as the slow horror of the realisation took his breath away.

“If you had seen them, you would have recognized it as an act of mercy,” Isaac turned and met his eyes. Hector felt almost like a child getting scolded by an adult when Isaac looked at him like this - as if Isaac had all the answers and Hector was an ignorant fool. Then again, it wasn’t that far from the truth. Isaac wasn’t in the habit of getting duped and imprisoned, from what Hector had seen. Unlike himself.

“I freed them from a fate worse than death,” Isaac continued and Hector felt mildly sick. Unfortunately, he had seen enough horrors to believe the other forgemaster’s words.

“I understand,” he said.

“This way,” Isaac gestured for them to continue.

Finally Hector was taken to what looked like a small camp, which Isaac must have built for himself. There was a single bedroll and some essential items for preparing food, as well as a few trinkets that the other forgemaster must have picked up on his journey. It looked almost cozy. 

“You may rest here,” Isaac told him. “Don’t try to run away. You will never escape this place.”

Hector knew that to be true. Even greatly reduced in numbers, Isaac’s night creatures were patrolling the settlement and all of them were loyal to their forgemaster. Hector had no chance of sneaking away unseen.

Without further ceremony, Isaac left him at the camp alone. 

Hector wondered if he was allowed to eat any of the food or to sleep on the bedroll. Isaac hadn’t given any instructions, so it was safest to assume that he wasn’t allowed to touch anything. Even if his only outcome was death, Hector prefered to get a quick, dignified end, instead of upsetting his captor and going through another painful and humiliating experience. 

Glad that the unfinished city was situated in a warmer region than Carmilla’s castle, Hector made a small fire in the pit and curled on the ground beside it.

He was beyond the point of simple exhaustion. He had been dead on his feet the entire day, and as soon as he closed his eyes he fell into dreamless sleep.

When someone dropped a cape over his shivering body a few hours later, Hector barely stirred enough to tuck his hands and feet under the thick fabric, before he was once again fast asleep.

...


	4. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Forgemasters lose something of great value to them. Getting it back is a choice, which Isaac is quick to make, but Hector still needs to figure out where he stands...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Moonstonemama, who helped me a lot on this chapter, and to everyone who supported the story with your comments, kudos and bookmarks! I hope you like the newest instalment!

Hector awoke in Isaac’s little camp among the mad magician’s half-finished city. The sun was slowly leaning west from the midpoint in the sky, shining directly into the forgemaster’s eyes as he stretched away the stiffness from his limbs and crawled from underneath Isaac’s heavy cloak.

Beside him there was a copper pot with a spoon hooked over the handle of the lid. The message was clear - he was supposed to eat. However, after enduring months of captivity, the gesture filled Hector with suspicion instead of gratitude.

Isaac had no reason to be so considerate of him. If all he wanted was to kill Hector in some grotesque way, then he didn’t need to leave him food or cover him with his cloak while he slept. The uncertainty of the situation made the forgemaster physically sick.

Perhaps there was something else that Isaac wanted, Hector thought. He had expected Isaac to be like Carmilla - depriving him of his most basic needs and treating him to continuous physical abuse. The blonde vampire had cared so little about Hector’s well-being that when her horse died, she had no qualms about taking her prisoner’s boots to walk in their comfortable souls.

However, Isaac seemed to act more like Lenore. Lenore had lured Hector in with her consideration. With clothes. With food.

Hector left the pot exactly where it was and got up, leaving Isaac’s cape in an unruly pile on the ground out of spite. He wasn’t going to let Isaac do to him what Lenore had done - tame him with the pretence of kindness. Hector was tired of playing other people’s games. He preferred to die with whatever dignity he still had left than to be made into a fool once more.

The silver-haired forgemaster slowly made his way through the hollow structures of the city. Each stark stone bore the marks of a recent massacre. Desensitized from his own misfortunes, Hector’s heart hardened to the horrors that had taken place there, striding through the broken streets with the confidence of a man who had nothing left to lose.

Isaac’s night creatures crawled out of every corner, watching him with unrestrained hunger in their multiple eyes. He didn’t care - he knew that they followed their master’s will and would never harm him until Isaac gave them permission.

Finally Hector found the well, which Isaac had shown him the day before and drew water with the bucket. Once he had quenched his thirst, Hector pulled his tunic off and scrubbed his chest and armpits with freezing water, washing away the sweat of stress and exertion from the previous day.

Isaac’s night creatures were slowly closing in on him from every direction, bold despite their expressive commands not to hurt him. Hector paid them no mind as they gathered in a crowd around him. A snakelike demon hissed, wriggling its forked tongue in Hector’s direction tasting the air for the scent of human flesh.

Hector glared at the naga and it shrank back in fear of the forgemaster’s ire.

Judging that he was as clean as he could get, Hector threw the bucket back into the well, satisfied with how the loud noise of the metal striking stones startled the night creatures around him. Knowing that they would instinctively fear another forgemaster, he put his tunic back on and walked right through their crowd.

When he got back to the camp, Hector found a strange demon awaiting him by the empty fire pit. It was diligently folding Isaac’s cape in its many insectoid hands.

Hector approached it carefully, uncertain of what to make of its presence.

“You must be Hector,” the demon addressed him, in a slow careful tone, which belied its monstrous nature. When it turned its many eyes to look at him, the forgemaster thought that it reminded him of a giant horse-fly.

“Isaac has asked to see you,” the creature continued. “I wouldn’t want to make him wait long. He seemed in a rather strained mood.”

“Has something upset him,” Hector crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m not sure,” the demon said, leading the forgemaster towards the centre of the settlement, where a tall tower overlooked the main city square. “I suppose it has something to do with his current predicament. More than that, I shouldn’t say.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach their destination and Hector spotted Isaac sitting at the top of the staircase. A nervous shiver ran down his spine. He was fairly certain that he’d be punished in some way to alleviate Isaac’s displeasure, whether he was the source of it or not.

His former comrade stood up as the demon left him before the bottom of the staircase.

“It’s good of you to join me,” Isaac greated politely, but Hector paid more attention to the coldness of his tone. “I have a task for you. I hope that you’ll indulge me.”

Hector lifted an eyebrow. It wasn’t as if he had any actual choice.

“I want you to reanimate a corpse,” Isaac gestured to a pile of fresh cadavers, dumped near to where Hector was standing. Their bodies looked like villagers snatched from nearby settlements. “You may pick a body.”

“Why do you need me to forge,” Hector asked as he walked over to the cadavers. Confident in his skills, he chose at random and motioned to a nearby demon to do the work of pulling the body out from the pile and dragging it to the centre of the square.

Meanwhile Isaac slowly descended the staircase. Without his cloak, Hector noticed that the other forgemaster was dressed similarly to himself - a black tunic, a pair of loose trousers and knee-high soldier’s boots. Isaac wore no adornments besides a weapon’s belt and the geometric tattoos over his brown chest, which the tunic’s low-cut neck left on display. Hector didn’t let his curious eyes linger, lowering them to the ground and turning his thoughts to the task at hand.

“You once told me that a pair of coins is all you need.” Isaac stopped by Hector’s side. He reached into a hidden pocket within the folds of his clothing and produced two bronze pieces. Hector opened his hand and Isaac dropped the coins into his palm. “You may demonstrate now.”

Hector looked at the coins that he’d received and swallowed a sigh of resignation. He didn’t know why Isaac wanted him to forge. Perhaps the other forgemaster was tired of doing all the work on his own. It seemed like Hector just couldn’t escape the fate of being used like a beast of burden. However, as assignments went, this wasn’t anything he wasn’t prepared to do.

The forgemaster knelt before the corpse of an old woman. With a simple pair of coins Hector could easily turn the body into a zombie, and with some effort into an ordinary night creature. He decided to try the latter, since it could never hurt to have a minion of his own, amongst the horde that Isaac commanded.

Striking the coins together, Hector concentrated his will and reached for the magic that lived inside of him, the very source of his power. He found it oddly difficult to connect to that instinctual place that had always been so readily accessible to him in the past. Somehow, his magic eluded him, as if he was trying to hold on to smoke - it was there, but every time he reached for it, it dissipated into thin air.

The forgemaster struck the coins again, trying harder, feeling his chest rising and falling faster from the effort.

Sparks of blue flew out, but got extinguished before they even reached the corpse. Hector’s eyes widened in shock. That had never happened before.

“What…” Hector blinked in disbelief. The corpse laid before him, same as before, untouched by any transformation. The forgemaster broke into cold sweat as he desperately tried again and again, sparking the coins and reaching harder and harder into himself until he began to feel unwell. “What the fuck… What have you done to me?!”

“This is not my doing,” Isaac sighed and walked in a semi-circle around him. Horrified, Hector gazed up at the other forgemaster who had been observing Hector’s futile efforts the entire time.

“I believe this is the result of what you did in Carmilla’s castle,” Isaac informed him coldly, his generous mouth setting in a hard line. “That archdemon you released has upset the balance of necromantic energy in our plain of existence. And as a result, you and I are both losing our abilities. I’d wager that other practitioners of the art are losing theirs as well.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” Hector protested, refusing to believe that something like that could happen.

“I have a knowledgeable friend, who has seen several catastrophes in her many years,” Isaac turned away slightly. “I trust her word on this.”

Hector watched Isaac’s semi-profile with confusion. From all the things that he had just heard, Isaac having made a friend was the most unlikely. It went against everything that he had ever assumed about the other forgemaster.

“I didn’t believe her at first,” Isaac continued with a tinge of regret in his tone, “but now that I’ve confirmed that I’m not the only one affected, I am willing to trust that what she told me was true.”

“Who is this knowledgeable friend?”

“Is that the question you want to ask me first,” Isaac seemed a little amused by Hector’s outburst, but he answered nevertheless. “Her name is Miranda. She’s a sorceress who helped me find this place. I have reasons to believe she’s a lot more than what she lets on, so I spoke to her earlier through the distance mirror. She might have a solution for our problem.”

A wave of relief washed over Hector when he realised that the old sorceress was unlikely to be related to the vampire sisters. But the realisation that another human had earned Isaac’s friendship when he had failed stung. Hector chose not to focus on the latter.

“I am going to travel to her house to find out what must be done to reverse this,” Isaac continued looking up towards the tower. His expression was fixed with purpose. “Take what you need: clothing, food, weapons. My night creatures will show you where I’ve stored everything of use. Be ready for a long journey. I believe we won’t be coming back here for a while.”

“And what if I don’t agree to help you,” Hector challenged, tired of being pushed around and ordered what to do.

“Don’t you want your powers back,” Isaac looked at him incredulously.

“And use them for what? Help you kill all the humans in the world,” Hector answered testily.

“You were not so opposed to that idea before,” Isaac’s expression darkened and his tone went dangerously low.

“I never wanted complete annihilation of the human population,” Hector disagreed heatedly. “I was promised a cull! A merciful cull and humane treatment for the remainder of the species.”

“I didn’t want to have this conversation like this,” Isaac closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, visibly struggling to get a grip on his anger and the violence that was eager to follow it. “I decided that I won’t be harsh with you. That I will hear your side of the story. But we cannot do this, if we’re tearing at each other’s throats like animals.”

Hector lowered his gaze, a little ashamed of how Isaac tried to remain collected while all Hector wanted was to tear down the masks and end the pretence of civility, which was already hanging by a thread.

“Come and sit down with me. We will speak.” Isaac walked over to the staircase and sat on the bottom steps. He tapped the marble surface and reluctantly Hector got closer, sitting a little to the side from Isaac.

There wasn’t much space between them and the closeness felt uncomfortable and forced. Hector braced himself for an interrogation.

“Why did you betray Dracula?”

There was no threat in Isaac’s question, only calm and what appeared to be a genuine desire to understand. From all the things Hector had expected out of that confrontation that wasn’t one of them.

“I told you already,” Hector crossed his arms over his chest defensively and looked away. “Dracula recruited me with a lie. He consistently hid the truth from me. I didn’t sign up for all the cruelty of that war. And did you know that he was planning to kill us too? You and me. Despite all that we did for him.”

“I knew all of that,” Isaac answered slowly and Hector turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

“You knew that he'd kill us!?”

“I suspected it,” Isaac sighed.

“And you - what? You were fine with that,” Hector blurted out.

“Looking back to it... I don’t know,” Isaac closed his eyes and lowered his head. He was at the most vulnerable state that Hector had ever seen him and to his surprise, he felt sympathy for the other forgemaster. Isaac had always been so unrelenting, so confident and so sure of their cause. Now he appeared just as lost as Hector.

“I thought that true loyalty meant to obey without question. To be glad to be sacrificed for the greater purpose. I thought that there was no lie great enough to shake my beliefs.”

“So he lied to you too,” Hector realised.

“He told me the truth that he believed in. The problem was, he had been lying to himself the entire time,” Isaac’s brows knit together as he stared into the distance. “Do you know how he died?”

“He was killed by Adrian, a Belmont and a Speaker Magician.”

“Lately I have been thinking back on that night a lot,” Isaac divulged solemnly. “And I realised two things. The first is that Dracula expected to be betrayed and to die. And the second is that he wanted it to happen.”

Hector’s regret over Dracula’s fate was worn thin, but faced with Isaac - a man who came directly from his past and reminded him of what had been good about it - it made the old pang of sadness stab into his heart once more. What Hector had done in the war was wrong, but the vampire who had commanded it had been kind to him, even if that benevolence had hidden a lie.

“How did you escape,” Hector asked the question that had boggled his mind for a very long time. Isaac had always been so loyal to their former Master, that Hector had expected the other man to die before he let anyone get close to Dracula.

“He saved my life by tossing me through the distance mirror into the Sahara desert,” Isaac chuckled mirthlessly. Hector could swear he saw the other forgemaster’s brown eyes shine with unshed tears just before Isaac closed them. Tears were another thing Hector had never thought he’d see from the other man.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it,” Isaac continued with a brittle smile. “How he claimed to want to wipe the whole human race from existence, yet he cared enough for a single human life that he saved it before he died.”

Hector found it curious that Isaac didn’t dare to say outright that it was his life that Dracula had treasured - not just any human’s. However, bringing that up seemed dangerous, so he chose not to comment on it.

“The same could be said about his wife,” Hector pointed out. “I always found it contradictory how he was inspired by her so much, but instead of honouring her wish to better humanity and create a more enlightened society, Dracula decided to end us all.”

“It didn’t make sense back then,” Isaac agreed with a nod. “But now it does. I believe he was seeking his own demice and he found it. If he had wanted anything but death, he would have let me defend him until my dying breath.”

“How did he react when he found out that I had deserted him,” Hector asked another question that had been weighing on his mind. He managed to keep his voice steady, for which he was glad. He didn’t want Isaac to notice his lingering shame for abandoning one of the very few people that had treated him with respect.

“He didn’t care,” Isaac didn’t soften the blow and Hector winced. He tried not to let himself feel hurt, but his throat constricted anyway and he felt his heart shrivel a little more in his chest.

“So it meant that little to him?”

“He wanted to die.” Isaac’s eyes were unrelenting when they turned to Hector’s. “For all we know, your actions fulfilled a part of his wish.”

“If Dracula’s wish was fulfilled by his own demise then what do you intend to do with your army,” Hector gestured to the night creatures gathered around the square. “If you won’t try to kill all the people in the world, why do you need to continue forging? With our powers gone, this might be your chance to let the past go. Don’t you want to have a normal life, Isaac?”

“A normal life,” Isaac shook his head and chuckled quietly. “Do you actually believe that such a thing exists?”

“Yes. A normal life. No more night creatures and no more death. Far from the politics of vampires and their cruel games.”

Isaac raised an inquisitive eyebrow that seemed to prompt Hector to continue.

“We are nothing but animals to the vampires,” Hector tried to make him understand. “I want no more dealings with them. Even Dracula used us like tools to be discarded when we were no longer needed. I am sick of being toyed with, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think that it was all a game to Dracula,” Isaac responded thoughtfully. “But I understand your point. And a wise man once told me that unless I started choosing my own path, I would be doomed to being just a part of another one’s story.”

“Another friend that you made?”

“You may say that,” Isaac smiled reluctantly. “He was the ship captain who transported us across the sea from Tunis.”

“I am surprised that a ship captain allowed your night creatures to board his vessel,” Hector admitted, feeling perplexed. He had never met any normal people, who weren’t completely repulsed by a forgemaster’s work.

“Humans have surprised me as of late,” Isaac said. “As well as disappointed me in all the familiar ways.”

“So what do you intend to do?”

“I am still undecided on my ultimate goal, but I know that I must regain my powers. What about you, Hector? Do you intend to help me?”

“Are you pretending to give me a choice,” Hector laughed bitterly. “I’m your prisoner. You can order me to do anything!”

“Indeed,” Isaac nodded. “But what would you do if I grant you freedom, so that you can make your own choices?”

“Would you?”

“I am considering it.”

Despite knowing better than to trust the other man, Hector’s heart leapt all the way up to his throat. Hope was a poignant and torturous sensation that threatened to wring tears from his blue eyes.

“Cruel of you to bait me like this,” he huffed, turning away to hide his bitterness.

“I can see that you’ve suffered,” Isaac stated calmly. “I think that you’ve been punished enough.”

“You’d just let me go!? After everything,” Hector’s voice was getting unbearably thin and he couldn’t stop the traitorous tears from gathering in his eyes. He blinked furiously to stop them from rolling down his flustering cheeks.

“I am not cruel enough to try to break an already broken man. I see no reason to further torture you.”

Hector’s jaw slackened. Suddenly his profound relief and hesitant hope were replaced with anger and humiliation.

“What makes you think that I’m broken?!”

“I know the look of a man, who has lost more than he could bear,” Isaac turned to meet his eyes steadily. The way they were sitting like mirror images of each other wasn’t lost even on a man as resistant to symbolism as Hector. “I used to see that very same expression in my own reflection.”

Isaac’s features softened as he gazed at him with his dark eyes that seemed to reach deep into Hector’s own, making him feel as if his very soul was laid bare. Hector fought the urge to shrink away from that look and break the contact that felt way too intimate, even though there was nothing sexual about the way Isaac’s eyes searched him. The compassion he saw there instead hurt him more than Hector ever thought he could be hurt.

Hector couldn’t bear it anymore. He closed his eyes, turned away and covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t broken. Isaac was wrong to pity him!

“I know what you’ve been through, and I forgive you for betraying me.” He felt Isaac’s hand touch his shoulder lightly. Startled, he looked back to the other man.

“I release you, and I leave the choice of what you want to do with your own story up to you,” Isaac said. “I already know where mine will take me, and if this is our last meeting, then I wish you to find peace.”

Hector couldn’t contain his tears anymore, and unable to find the will to even wipe them off his face, he let them fall to the ground. He stared as Isaac unfolded to his full height and walked away to prepare for his journey to wherever it was that he intended to go. There was nothing more that he could do. His chest felt completely hollow, his heart unable to process what had just happened.

All he knew was that he was letting Isaac walk away - Isaac, the only person to ever truly try to understand him. The only person to show him real mercy.

Isaac was back when he was ready to travel, wrapped in his long white cloak and his satchel hanging against his back. He led the horned demon horse beside him and half a dozen night creatures, some of which shouldered the meager possessions that had been stored in the camp.

Isaac didn’t say a word as he ascended the staircase to the tower. He was halfway up the stairs when Hector finally gathered himself enough to speak.

“You will die,” he warned, voice rough from anguish and stubbornness. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. “Without your powers, you are no match for the archdemon. You’re going to your death, Isaac.”

Isaac paused and turned to meet Hector’s eyes. He looked serene.

“I think we can both agree that there are fates worse than death.”

With that he led his vanguard through the large double doors of the tower, leaving Hector conflicted and alone.

…  
…  
…

Isaac tried not to look back as he passed through the doors, leaving behind the person who was his last connection to the past. Hector had chosen to stay and was lost to him, along with everything that had been, and could have been but never was. Isaac reminded himself that he had to accept things as they were and move on.

Down the spiral staircase he went and to the distance mirror. With a gesture and a thought, Isaac opened the portal to Miranda’s abandoned village and wrapped himself tighter in his cloak. It smelled faintly of Hector, Isaac realised when he pulled the hood over his head. Brushing the errant observation away, he resolved not to dwell on the other forgemaster anymore.

Isaac walked through the mirror, leading his creatures forth. Once on the other side, he stopped and lingered in front of the portal. He knew that he should close it, but he still hesitated.

“If your friend doesn’t follow by tomorrow, then I will close the portal myself,” a familiar voice startled him and Isaac turned to see Miranda approaching.

The old sorceress was carrying a basket full of freshly harvested herbs. The mischievous light in her blue eyes never seized to unnerve Isaac.

“Have you been scrying on me,” the forgemaster asked irritably, wondering how else Miranda could have known about his approach and about his conversation with Hector.

“Would you deny an old woman her simple pleasures,” Miranda winked and Isaac felt himself begin to blush with discomfort.

“A useful skill,” he noted, able to appreciate the sorceress’ abilities, even when they were used against him. “Yet a little voyeuristic.”

“Said the pot to the kettle,” the sorceress cackled madly.

Isaac sighed. He supposed he couldn’t blame the old woman for watching him from a distance when he had done the same to Hector. The parallel made him even more uncomfortable.

“So, should we make a bet, how long it would take the other boy to come running after you,” Miranda waited for Isaac to fall into stride with her, and together they began descending the mountainous path down to her village.

“I don’t appreciate betting games,” Isaac informed her. “But I would be glad if you could tell me more about what you know of the archdemon and how I can defeat it without my powers.”

“Not now and not here,” Miranda said and Isaac nodded in understanding. Some forbidden knowledge was best discussed with precaution, even if one was in an empty village in the middle of inhospitable mountains.

They reached the sorceress’ favorite porch. The sun had moved and now her usual spot for sitting was plunged in cold shadows.

“Be my guest, pretty forgemaster,” Miranda cackled as she opened the door to her small house, waving for Isaac to follow.

Isaac silently commanded his night creatures to stand back and keep a lookout as he leaned under the low threshold of the old woman’s front door.

The inside of Miranda’s house was as astute as the sorceress herself. The packed dirt floor was covered by a thick sheep-skin rug and a wooden stove burned low in a dark corner giving off a meager supply of light and warmth. The windows of the house were covered with thick shutters that left only small slivers of daylight inside and the air was thick with the smell of drying herbs. Tiny bone decorations hung from the ceiling beams, chiming hollowly as the wind from the opened door briefly rattled them.

Isaac surveyed the small room cautiously, but he found no hidden danger and sensed no traps. Miranda invited him to sit on a low table on the floor over a worn out woven cushion. She served him water in a roughly sculpted clay cup and Isaac thanked her and waited patiently as his host set out to prepare a meal.

The forgemaster took the time to clear his mind and let go of lingering emotions that still bothered him after his conversation with Hector. A part of him still hoped that the other forgemaster would choose to aid him on his quest, and Isaac inspected himself thoroughly for his reasons.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he spoke out loud by force of habit, and got started when Miranda responded.

“I am right here, you know.”

“Forgive me,” Isaac flushed slightly. “It was not my intention to speak.”

“It seems to me that you yearn to have your voice heard,” Miranda observed as she stirred a pot with a meal that was beginning to smell better and better by every passing minute.

It had been a very long time since Isaac had eaten anything that he hadn’t prepared himself, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation, but he paid its hunger pangs no mind.

“You might be right,” Isaac conceded and lowered his eyes to his crossed legs as he thought.

Outside the day was quickly fading and so was the meagre light that came from the shuttered windows. Soon the old sorceress began lighting up candles around the stark interior of her small house. The warm orange of their flame made her home feel almost cozy. Isaac once again tried to reach for a peaceful state of mind when he heard his night creatures howl and grunt in alarm outside.

“I better check what approaches,” Isaac said and Miranda smiled knowingly.

Outside Isaac was greeted by cold wind and quickly darkening dusk. Snow clouds filled the sky, promising a cold, moonless, starless night ahead, but the sun had only just set behind the horizon and in the distance Isaac could still make out a dark figure approaching on the steep path.

Isaac took a deep breath to steady his speeding heart as he waited for Hector to approach.

His former captive stopped a few meters away. Isaac took in the cross-shoulder bag over the long dark-coloured cloak, both of which Hector had newly acquired. In the gloom it was hard to make out any details, but the items were undoubtedly taken from the provisions that Isaac had found in the magician’s tower.

“I will come with you, if you’d still like my help,” Hector told him.

“Good,” Isaac allowed himself a small smile. Hector looked suspicious to hear him agree so easily, therefore Isaac elaborated, “I will need all the help I could get.”

The sentiment seemed to put Hector at ease and the silver-haired man nodded in agreement.

Feeling infinitely relieved and at the same time weirdly on edge, Isaac took the other forgemaster back to the sorceress’ house. As he opened the door he heard Hector gasp from the warmth and the smell of cooked food awaiting them so invitingly.

“Welcome, Hector,” Miranda greeted with a knowing smile. “Come in, don’t be shy!”

Hector looked at Isaac with an expression that reminded him of a spooked horse.

“Come,” Isaac patted the other man on the back reassuringly. “She doesn’t bite. Much.”

Miranda cackled in delight from hearing him repeat her earlier joke, and Hector looked so put out that Isaac couldn’t help but join the old woman’s amused laughter.

At least he wouldn’t be the only one made to feel awkward by the woman’s sense of humour any more.

...


	5. A Unified Front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Hector learn about what they must do to regain their powers, and a bit more about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, massive thanks to Moonstonemama for beta reading and giving me ideas, as well as everyone who read and liked the fic, left kudos, comments or made bookmarks!!! Your support keeps this fic going <3

Once inside the house, Isaac observed Hector as he regained his bearings in the cackling sorceress’s presence. The silver-haired man squared his shoulders and his eyes darted to every corner of the room, taking in the packed-mud walls, the bone wind chimes dangling from the ceiling beams, the low table where steaming bowls of stew awaited, and of course, the old woman herself. Miranda’s piercing gaze scanned him in return, her thin mouth stretching wider to the side in an awful smirk.

“Thank you for your hospitality, madam,” Hector greeted their host politely.

“You can call me Miranda, sweet thing.”

Hector looked shocked by the older woman’s antics, and his wide-eyed expression elicited another smile of amusement from Isaac. He stepped close to his former comrade and touched his back for reassurance before joining Miranda on the low cushions on the floor.

As he folded his long legs to sit, Isaac heard a tell-tale clanking of metal and wood, which set him on edge. Miranda’s face had hardened as well, and Isaac narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he glanced over his shoulder to the source of the noise.

Hector had a long sword tied to his belt. The weapon in its scabbard shook and hit the wall as the other forgemaster hung his cloak on a nail by the entrance. However, Hector had turned his back to them and Isaac recognized it as the gesture of friendly intent that it was, therefore he relaxed his stance and turned back to the meal that was set out for them.

“I see that you have acquired a sword,” Isaac mentioned evenly. He wanted to trust the other man and call him his ally once again, but he prefered to stay on the side of caution.

“As you so generously offered,” Hector answered tersely.

“I didn’t know that you were proficient with a long sword.”

“I’m not. However, I have some experience with other two handed weapons, such as my hammer.”

From the corner of his eyes, Isaac watched Hector slowly approach and unbuckle the sword from his belt before putting it beside the cushion on which he sat.

“There’s little use in a weapon that you don’t know how to use,” Isaac pointed out.

“How hard can it be?”

“This is why I never wanted children,” Miranda groaned testily, gesturing to the steaming bowls of stew on the table in front of them. “Can you two quit bickering like little boys and eat before your dinner goes cold?!”

Both forgemasters apologised and turned to the still steaming meal with hunger. It was a stew of cooked mushrooms, herbs and roots that tasted better than anything Isaac had eaten in a long while. He had never been a picky eater, but it felt nice to have something other than rice and curated meats, which had constituted his diet on his journey. He glanced up to see Hector eating greedily as if he’d been famished.

Secretly observing the other man from underneath his eyelashes, Isaac reasoned with himself that It could prove useful to show Hector how to fight. Perhaps a knife-user, such as himself, didn’t have much to teach someone who wanted to fight with a two-handed sword, but Isaac had some expertise with a spear as well. He supposed that he could at least show Hector the basics and drill some combat instincts into him.

The three arcane practitioners ate in silence and Isaac was so distracted by his musings that he only noticed that his plate had finished when he saw how Hector was looking longingly at the bottom of his bowl as if he considered licking it clean. It made Isaac want to smile in fond amusement, but he caught himself on time and cleared his expression and his throat.

“I could teach you how to fight with that sword,” he offered the idea that had been on his mind the entire time.

Hector met his eyes with surprise.

“There we go with the sword again,” Miranda let out a long-suffering sigh. “Boys and their sticks… Fine, go play outside while I clear up and be back in half an hour! Unless you’ve forgotten all about the archdemon that you wanted to kill and you’d rather wave swords around.”

“We haven’t forgotten why we came here,” Isaac declared solemnly, but Hector was already on his feet and tying the scabbard around his belt.

“Are you coming,” Hector crossed his arms over his chest and he waited for him.

Isaac was a little taken aback, but reluctantly he got up as well.

“It’s dark outside, probably not the best time for a lesson.”

“I feel like I’ve waited enough to learn,” Hector said, walking to the front door and holding it open for him.

A freezing gust of the nighttime wind made his silver locks fly around his face wildly, making a rather fetching sight, and despite his better judgement, Isaac couldn’t resist the temptation. He followed Hector outside, closing the door quickly after Miranda’s annoyed reminder that they were letting the cold get in the house.

It was incredibly cold out under the overcast night sky and nearly pitch-black to their unaccustomed eyes. Isaac walked carefully, uncertain of his footing and feeling for the steps that led off Miranda’s porch blindly. His feet found the rocky mountainous path beyond by touch alone until his vision adjusted enough that he could almost make out the pale gleam of rocks, which indicated the path against the darkness of grass.

Neither of them had taken their cloaks, which was wise given the risk of getting the loose garments cut up while Hector learned to use the sword, but it certainly didn’t help against the biting frost.

“This was a terrible idea,” Isaac sighed to himself as they walked uphill to find a suitable spot outside the village.

“Just for a bit, until we get cold,” Hector offered. His pale hair reflected the scarce light of the moon, which occasionally peaked between snow clouds, and that made it the only thing that Isaac could track easily in the darkness surrounding them.

They reached a little clearing of even terrain and Hector kicked away a few large rocks that his feet stumbled upon on the ground. Isaac’s eyes were slowly getting better at distinguishing shapes in the dark and although shivers wrecked his chest, he felt the spark of excitement warm him up as he watched Hector’s lean black-clad figure move against the dusky landscape behind him.

“Show me what you know,” Isaac challenged and stood a few meters away to avoid getting accidentally slashed.

Hector pulled the sword from the scabbard, lifted it in both hands and lowered his stance, bending his knees and sliding one foot forward. Isaac was surprised to note that the starting position wasn’t too bad at all.

“That’s good,” Isaac commented. “Now, show me your attack.”

Hector stepped away from Isaac and continued to practice at a safe distance. His former colleague certainly had the arm strength and finesse required for the weapon. To test his balance, Isaac walked up behind him and gave him a surprise shove between the shoulder blades. Even without warning, Hector’s balance barely faltered.

“You’re quite stable,” Isaac observed. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I fought with sticks like every other boy,” Hector turned to face him. “But I also had to defend myself with my hammer a couple of times. And before that I used to have a particularly sturdy wooden staff.”

Hector took a few more steps around the clearing, attacking imaginary enemies. The blade flashed in the air, reflecting the moonlight. There was elegance and power in Hector’s movements, and transfixed as if watching a dance, Isaac itched to join in.

“I think what you need is an opponent,” he offered against sound judgement, and took out his dagger, which always hung around his belt.

“Isn’t it too dark to spar,” Hector lowered his sword. “What if you accidentally stab me?”

“If I stab you, it won’t be on accident,” Isaac assured him, reversing the grip of his dagger and turning a bit to the side, his off-shoulder pointing to his opponent.

“What if I cut off your head instead,” Hector lifted the sword in challenge despite the cautionary words.

“I’d like to see you try,” Isaac smirked and began circling around him. Hector turned in his spot, keeping him in his line of sight.

The tension between the two opponents was quickly rising and the familiar anticipation of a confrontation ignited Isaac’s blood until his body was warm and burning like a furnace. The intoxication of battle nerves and excitement made him forget the chill in the air and his previous worries about what could go wrong as they sparred in the dark.

Something twisted lived inside Isaac, something dark that he often tried not to heed. It rejoiced at the opportunity for violence. It was a hungry thing that only ever lent him its strength when he fed it, but was quick to turn on him and feast on his own flesh when it didn’t get as much as it wanted. That wild creature wasn’t his friend, but sometimes Isaac accepted it into his arsenal of weapons, because it could be useful when he was desperate and struggling for his life.

However, now was not such a time. Hector’s presence grounded him and gave him something else to focus on. He needed to be taught and Isaac wanted to teach, more than he wanted to hurt. So when Hector took a step towards him, then back and seemed uncertain, Isaac didn’t take advantage of his opponent’s weakness, instead looked for ways to instruct him.

“Not so easy when you’re going against an opponent, is it,” he surmised.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hector lowered his sword and shook his head in resignation.

“You didn’t have such qualms when you whacked me with the chain,” Isaac reminded him.

He still remembered the ringing in his skull when the chain had smacked his brow. It had been a surprisingly effective attack and the place was still bruised and tender.

“Remember what it felt like to fight for your survival. Try to put yourself in the same mental space. Always fight as if your life depends on it, because it does.”

“But you won’t hurt me, will you,” Hector asked cautiously.

“No, but the way you practice will determine the way you fight,” Isaac explained. “Your muscles will remember and the same impulses will come back to you in the heat of battle when you won’t have time to think. So you must learn to do it the right way.”

Hector nodded his understanding and took a few steps towards him. He swung the sword in Isaac’s direction, but the movement was still deliberately slow. Isaac sidestepped the arch of the blade, grabbed Hector’s forearm in one hand and backhanded his cheek with the other before pressing the dagger to his neck. Both of them froze.

“Don’t make it so easy for me,” Isaac warned him, holding Hector’s straining arm, listening to his indignant exhalations. He hadn’t been gentle with that slap and that was just the point.

Isaac released his opponent and stepped back. He wasn’t prepared for Hector attacking him at full speed as he retreated, and the surprise cost him. The sword’s edge stopped just an inch away from Isaac’s throat. Isaac held his breath in wonder.

“Is that what you want,” Hector growled.

“Yes, that’s better,” Isaac grinned and forcefully deflected the sword with his dagger, making Hector stumble away.

Taking a sharp step to the side Isaac confused Hector and tossed the dagger in the air, switching hands before attacking his opponent’s undefended flank. Hector jumped back out of reach and tripped on something in the dark. His offhand let go of the sword’s handle and reached out for balance. Isaac caught it before he even thought about what he was doing.

“And don’t forget to mind your surroundings,” Isaac pulled him back up and let his hand go.

They each took several steps away from the other, getting back into their fighting stances. Now they were both worked up, breathing faster, eyes flashing with anticipation. Thrills of excitement skidded down Isaac’s spine, adrenaline rising as he waited for Hector to make the next step… until the sound from a rock rolling down the hill drew his attention away. Immediately Isaac’s ears focused on the unexpected noise. His eyes darted around in the dark, trying to locate the source of the disturbance. There was nothing.

“Miranda?”

The house was some distance away and it’s tiny door was still closed. Barely any light escaped from between the wooden panels that shuttered its square windows and the hush that gathered around it felt eerie and unnatural.

More falling rocks from the other side and Isaac swirled around to face the black void of the night. All amusement drained from him. His gut told him that something was wrong, even if his eyes could see nothing in the deep shadows that surrounded them. Nearby he could hear Hector’s boots scrape against the rocky ground as the other man stepped from foot to foot in shared disquiet.

“Be ready,” Isaac whispered, certain that there was something stalking them in the dark. His instincts were never wrong.

Drawing his dagger closer to his chest, Isaac called upon his night creatures. Suddenly he realized that although he had ordered his minions to remain stationed and guard the house, he hadn’t seen them earlier. Just as he wondered what could have happened to them, a shadow with glowing red eyes jumped out from behind him, giant claws raised to attack him.

Isaac dodged, rolling on the ground out of the way. He was up to his feet in an instant, parrying each vicious attack, even as the horrible reality dawned upon him.

His own creature was attacking him! It could mean only one thing...

“Enough! I’m your forgemaster! You must obey me,” he shouted, putting his formidable will behind the words. The night creature didn’t even flinch and continued attacking its own creator.

Kicking the demon’s ribcage Isaac succeeded only in throwing himself back - the demon’s hulking weight greatly exceeded his human one and wouldn’t budge. Isaac used the increased distance as an opportunity to glance at how Hector was doing.

The other forgemaster was engaged with a figure that was barely distinguishable in the dark. The wet sounds of blood spraying on the ground betrayed that the creature was wounded, but Isaac couldn’t see well enough to know if Hector was winning or losing the fight.

“I’ve lost my connection to them! We need to get back to the hut,” Isaac called out as he jumped out of reach of a second demon’s attack. “We’re badly outnumbered!”

Hector chopped a limb off his adversary and while the demon screeched in agony, he turned to run.

Isaac cursed under his breath when he spotted a third demon crowding him and blocking his own escape route. Even a forgemaster was no match for his own creations if he was surrounded.

“This cannot be the end,” Isaac growled, staring down the red eyes that glared at him from three sides.

With his indomitable will he challenged the beasts to attack him and they hesitated for just long enough that by the time the first one made a move, Hector was right behind it. The long sword’s blade plunged right through the night creature’s chest and Isaac used its confusion to leap forward and decapitate it.

The monster slid to the ground, and while the other two cowared, Isaac ran past them, grabbed Hector’s arm and pulled him along for a life-or-death dash to safety.

As they raced downhill towards the hut, Miranda appeared at her door. The light of the house was like a blinding halo behind her, warm and orange in color - the promise of safety that looked so close, but was still too far away. The night creatures were faster than the humans and even though the forgemasters ran like their lives depended on it, they could feel the damp air of demons’ breathing down their necks as their pursuers caught up with them.

Miranda opened her arms and threw something in the air. It flew high above them and exploded into a storm of violet lightning that illuminated the path ahead, just in time for Isaac to avoid tripping on the stone steps before the sorceress’ porch. As he jumped over the obstacle, they heard the night creatures screech as magical energy electrocuted them and the reek of scorched flesh filled the air.

Hector wasn’t so lucky and he tripped and landed wrong, stepping sideways with a sickening crunch from his ankle. He yelped and dropped to one knee. Isaac hesitated just for a split second before he turned, grabbed the other man around the waist and hauled him the final steps to the hut. Miranda moved and held the door for the two men, who fell forward on the floor. She closed and barred the door behind them, breathing heavily and leaning on the sturdy wood.

“Are we safe here,” Hector asked urgently, scrambling to his knees and looking around with wild eyes.

“My house is warded,” Miranda struggled to catch her breath. She massaged her forehead with obvious exhaustion from using the charm, which had saved their lives. “Nothing can get in without my permission. But we can’t stay locked up here forever. We need to dispatch those demons when the sun’s up.”

Isaac pushed himself to his elbows and sat up. He needed to thank Miranda for the rescue, but first he wanted to find out if Hector was alright.

“How’s your leg,” he drew closer to the other man with concern.

Hector pulled his knee close to his chest, carefully examining his ankle with his fingertips.

“I think I sprained my ankle,” he huffed with annoyance. “Nothing serious.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. He doubted it was nothing, but Hector’s defenses were rising and he was certain that he wouldn’t be allowed near the other man’s injury. Isaac understood Hector’s fear of appearing vulnerable well enough, but the lack of trust could be awfully unproductive.

“You better let me take care of that,” Miranda was having none of it. Wiping her wrinkled hands in her grey skirts she walked further into the house as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Unless you want to limp around like a cripple for a couple of weeks.”

“I suppose I have no choice since you put it like that,” Hector didn’t sound enthusiastic, but to Isaac’s surprise, he followed the sorceress behind a small curtain that sectioned out a different area of the house.

Assuming that they had gone to Miranda’s private area, Isaac decided to wait by the wood stove. He warmed himself and listened to Miranda talk Hector through what she was doing to his leg, as if he was a skittish child. Isaac smiled a little in amusement.

Trusting the sorceress to take care of his colleague, Isaac tuned them out and momentarily disappeared into his own thoughts. It was useless trying not to feel bitter over the loss of yet another thing that made him who he was. He had counted on retaining control over the night creatures. Without them, and without his ability to forge, what was left of him? Just another human. What could he possibly hope to achieve without any of his powers?

Isaac let out a small hopeless sigh and stared at the fire. A sudden realization shook him out of his bleak musings. Hector had just saved him. Isaac was pretty certain that he would have lost the fight against the three night creatures, if Hector hadn’t intervened. That… was an interesting experience.

Miranda and Hector returned and Isaac turned his attention back to them. Even though Hector was trying to walk without putting his weight on the injured foot, he was helping the sorceress carry a large pile of old books.

“Put them there, my darling,” Miranda motioned and the silver-haired man hopped over to the table, toppled down on his knees and began arranging the heavy tomes with care.

Isaac walked over to help him, but Hector shook his head.

“I got this,” he said and Isaac left him to it.

Miranda had a small bone-carved box in one hand and some rolled up parchment in the other.

“Ignoring the night creatures outside, you two have an archdemon problem,” Miranda began, her signature smirk back on her cracked lips. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to deal with the tiny ones tomorrow, but when it comes to archdemons, you will need nothing short of a miracle.”

Isaac brought a few large candles to illuminate the texts on the table and sat with the others. Miranda took a deep, solemn breath and closed her eyes as she continued.

“There’s a tale of an ancient ruined abbey nestled in the mountains to the west. If one travels there they will find a relic of unbelievable power, known as the Undimmed Light. It’s said to be the captured light that one of the disciples of Christ collected when the Son of God exited his tomb on the day of his resurrection.”

According to Isaac’s religion, Jesus was a prophet, not the son of God, however the teachings weren’t always exact, nor were the retellings of legends. Isaac didn’t blindly believe in anything he heard - he gathered wisdom and truth when he encountered it, and kept his faith in the presence of a divine God. Everything else was subject to debate.

“The Undimmed Light is said to have unmatched and nearly unlimited power,” Miranda continued. “The light from that artefact can chase even Lucifer back to hell. It would be useful against your archdemon for sure. But that’s not the only thing that this relic is rumoured to be able to achieve.”

“What else can it do,” Hector asked and Isaac glanced at his profile from the corner of his eyes. Hector’s features were pulled taunt with suspicion. Isaac’s eyes were briefly drawn to the way he rolled his full lower lip between his teeth.

“Some say that it can be used to fulfill a wish,” Miranda sighed wistfully. “Its power is so immense that it can transcend the limits of time and change the past. It can even reach into other planes of existence and transform alternative worlds.”

“If it’s so powerful, how come no one has found it before,” Isaac inquired, sharing Hector’s scepticism. The whole story sounded a little too convenient to be true. And if such an artefact existed, then there was likely more to the story than Miranda was letting on.

“Many have, but none have succeeded,” Miranda stressed. “When I was young, I too tried to find the Undimmed Light. I failed, and it nearly cost me my life. But thanks to my research, I can tell you roughly where you must go, and what you will need to survive the many traps that guard the relic.”

Miranda rolled out the parchment across the table, revealing a detailed map of what looked like a Byzantine-style abbey with a wide network of catacombs beneath it.

“Why did you need the Undimmed light,” Hector probed further.

“I wanted to go back in time and prevent myself from making my biggest mistake,” Miranda lowered her eyes mournfully. “Sadly I had no one to help me, so I failed. I believe you two will have better luck if you stick together.”

Hector met his eyes briefly and something strange happened in Isaac’s chest.

“I’m guessing you want us to let you use the relic in return for your knowledge and help, Miranda,” Isaac said, secretly releasing a deep sigh. He could tell by the way Hector’s eyes examined the old woman that the other forgemaster had been thinking the same.

“Sharp as ever,” Miranda laughed. “Isaac, I know that now that I have told you all of this and I have shown you my map, there is nothing I can do to demand payment, unless you choose to give it to me. So I’m going to phrase this as the request of an old woman, who has lived a long life of regrets. After you use the light to defeat the archdemon and get your necromantic powers back, let me use the wish!”

Isaac frowned. It was a very big request indeed. Miranda could be lying about her motivation to use the relic, but also, if Isaac could use that wish, there were an endless amount of possibilities of what he could do.

“If you change the past, wouldn’t that create a time paradox, which will mess with our lives as well,” Hector made a very good argument.

“Don’t mistake me for a novice, darling,” Miranda crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. “I will have to travel to another plane of existence as well as a different time to get what I want. The current timeline will remain as it is. So you have nothing to fear, because as you said - to change one’s past in the same plane of existence is impossible.”

“I don’t make promises lightly, so I cannot vow to fulfill your request. I don’t know yet what we will face,” Isaac said, “But for your help, if God wills it, I will bring the artefact back to you.”

“That’s more than what I hoped for,” Miranda bowed her head gratefully. Then she pushed the small bone-carved box across the table. “This will be of use once you reach the abbey. I have never opened it, but I believe that whatever it contains will guide you through the maze-like tunnels of the catacombs. Do not open it before you get there. You will likely have only one chance to use it.”

The forgemasters thanked her and Isaac put the small box in his pocket. Miranda’s joints popped as she slowly rose up to her full height.

“It’s getting late. Make sure to go through the books. I don’t know how much of them will be useful or if any at all, but my research on the abbey and the origin of the Undimmed Light might save your lives.”

“Thank you, Miranda,” Isaac got up and gave a small bow to the elder sorceress as she prepared to excuse herself. She waved to Hector to prevent him from rising to his feet.

“You rest,” she ordered and Hector remained seated. “You’ll need at least a day off that foot if you want to continue your journey unhindered.”

“Thank you for all your help, Miranda,” Hector gave a small bow as well, a gesture that Isaac approved of. Miranda had shared her knowledge with them to help them, and deserved their deep respect.

“If we’re staying another day, we’ll have enough time to read through these volumes,” Isaac reasoned, eyeing the leather-bound books on the table. “But we might have to read through the night.”

“No one’s chasing you away, sweet thing,” Miranda waved dismissively. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like. Come, let me get you settled!”

Miranda opened an inbuilt compartment in the wall, stocked with folded, thick woolen blankets.

“Make yourselves at home, and for fuck’s sake, get some sleep!”

Isaac couldn’t help but return Miranda’s shrewd smile.

After the sorceress disappeared into her bedroom, Isaac surveyed the house without its host. Hector was quietly turning the pages of the first book, the wood stove was slowly burning through the last few logs and behind the wooden panels of the windows, night creatures could be heard sniffing and growling. Once he knew what to look for, Isaac noticed the wards carved into every corner of Miranda’s house, and on nearly every object. No demon could enter her house. They were safe inside.

“We better rest,” Isaac noted, deciding to heed the old woman’s advice. “I was hoping that we could use the distance mirror to travel to this abbey, but with the night creatures no longer under my command, it would be suicidal to return to the tower. We’d have to journey on foot.”

“As long as we know where we’re going it shouldn’t be that bad,” Hector shrugged, turning another page with obvious interest. He was so engrossed in what he was reading that Isaac used the opportunity to observe him without being noticed.

Hector pushed a shoulder-lenght lock of hair behind his ear to keep it from falling into his eyes and propped his chin on his palm. The thoughtful crease of his brows made him look even more attractive than usual, Isaac decided with a small sigh. It was no wonder that the vampires had used him the way they did - Hector was very beautiful and Isaac wasn’t stubborn enough to deny that he noticed it too. However, he doubted that Hector would appreciate being ogled after everything he had been through, so Isaac decided to let him be.

Isaac went over to the wall compartment, pulled out thick blankets and began spreading them on the floor near the stove. Even with the fire burning low, the metal and the wall around it were warm and would continue to slowly give off heat for hours, which made their vicinity the warmest place in the house to sleep. He made sure to leave as much space between their lodgings as possible.

“This is amazing,” Hector tapped on something on the page. Isaac glanced at him, feeling something like fondness when he realized that the other man was talking to himself. He smiled and looked away.

“I’m going to rest. I prepared a bed for you too. Don’t forget to blow out the candles before you sleep.”

“I won’t be long,” Hector promised distractedly.

Isaac adjusted his bedding so that he could keep Hector, the curtain which Miranda had disappeared behind, and the front door all in his line of sight. He pressed his back to the wall letting his eyelids grow heavy as he coaxed himself to rest. It took a couple of tries, but finally he relaxed enough to close his eyes completely.

…  
…  
…

Candlelit hours passed quickly with no sun or moon to tell the difference. Hector startled with a jolt, realising that he had almost nodded off on top of the book he’d been reading. Yawning groggily he glanced over to Isaac’s sleeping form. Even though hours had passed since the other man had gone to rest, as soon as Hector turned to him, Isaac’s eyes opened, looking right back at him from across the dimly lit room.

“Why aren’t you sleeping,” Hector asked quietly, careful not to disturb Miranda’s rest.

“I can’t fall asleep while you’re awake,” Isaac murmured drowsily.

Hector examined the other forgemaster. Isaac was wrapped up in thick undyed blankets, tucked against the far wall. The corner where he had bunked up had fallen into shadows after the fire had burned down, but Hector could see Isaac’s piercing eyes flashing in the candlelight.

“It’s nothing personal,” Isaac continued with a sigh, moving under the covers until his back was propped up against the wall in a half-reclining position. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve slept close to other humans.”

“You still don’t trust me,” Hector surmised, stretching his stiff neck and arms. His bones cracked in protest after hunching over the low table for so long. “I don’t blame you. I’m not sure I can sleep while you’re nearby either.”

“I thought you’d be more used to company than I am.”

“Why, because Lenore slept with me,” Hector laughed bitterly at the suggestion. Promptly he wished that he hadn’t mentioned Lenore, but it was too late to take the words back, so he tried to disguise his indignation with a joke. “It was a little different with her - she didn’t breathe.”

“That was wrong of me to suggest,” Isaac surprised him with the apology, but Hector doubted it was sincere.

“No, it wasn’t,” he tried to hide his chagrin over the matter. “You have every right to bring that up and ridicule me with it. Especially after you saved my hide, then took pity on me and released me.”

Isaac answered with a prolonged silence, which made Hector itch to ask what he wasn’t saying, because he could all but hear Isaac thinking. In the meantime, shame coalesced into a nearly physical thing that was blocking his throat. Any moment now, and he was going to choke on it.

“You feel indebted to me,” Isaac sighed. “Is that why you decided to follow me?”

Hector opened his mouth, but this time he managed to stop himself before answering honestly. It wasn’t safe to admit that he had no good reason to follow his former comrade. Once again he had trusted a hunch - trailing after someone like the lost puppy that Carmilla so often likened him to. It was best to pretend that he had some sort of plan and a motivation, otherwise he risked revealing too much, just like he had done with Lenore.

“I wanted my powers back,” Hector lied. “I figured that working together was my best bet to gain them back.”

Isaac tilted his head to the side, as if looking at him from another angle would reveal a different truth. Apparently it did.

“You’re still a pretty bad liar,” Isaac chuckled and Hector felt outrage rise within him. How could Isaac tell that he was lying?! His voice hadn’t faltered. His posture had remained relaxed. He had maintained firm eye contact…

“If you want to be good at lying, you must learn to enjoy deceiving others,” Isaac divulged, leaning more comfortably against the wall and stretching out his long legs in Hector’s direction.

“What if I take no pleasure in that,” Hector ventured warily, unsure why his former colleague gave him tips on deception.

“Then your best bet is lying through omission,” Isaac informed him conversationally. “If you are bad at telling lies, say nothing at all.”

“That’s what you do,” Hector realised and the other forgemaster nodded. It made sense. So he had to watch out for Isaac’s silence, instead of his words. However, that still made him wonder, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’d prefer if we don’t lie to each other anymore,” Isaac said. “We need each other’s help, and trying to deceive one another isn’t going to benefit us in any way.”

Hector raised an eyebrow at those claims. Isaac didn’t seem to truly need his help - he had left him behind at the tower without so much as a parting word. But he had also taken him back without arguments. With all the mixed signals Hector was getting, it was impossible to read the other man.

“I’d prefer it if we were friends,” Isaac continued and there was a wary note to Isaac’s pleasant baritone, which Hector wasn’t used to hearing.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t into making human friends,” Hector backtracked with caution of his own.

The offer was tempting - too much so. During their service under Dracula, Hector had liked Isaac, but Isaac had never considered him much more than another annoyance in his daily task sheet. When he had asked him to be friends, the other forgemaster flatly rejected him. And now there was a very real chance that Isaac was playing with him or had some more sinister reason behind extending the proverbial olive branch.

“That was because the circumstances were different,” Isaac glanced away and raised one knee to his chest, almost like a shield in front of his body.

“What’s so different,” he prompted, observing Isaac’s closed-off expression carefully.

When the silence extended, Hector remembered what Isaac had told him about lying through omission. Chuckling a little, the injured man pushed himself off the table and limped across the room, making sure not to step on his sprained ankle until he was close enough to touch the toes of Isaac’s extended leg.

Isaac’s eyes widened as Hector sat on the ground before him.

“You know that you’re going to have to tell me,” Hector prompted with a half smile. “You already revealed your secret to me.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes minutely, but then he huffed a small laugh and shook his head in surrender.

“Very true,” he conceded. “Well, as I told you before, I suspected what Dracula intended for us. I also suspected that he’d entrust me with the task of dispatching you. I didn’t want to have a conflict of interest when the time came.”

Hector was taken aback by the confession. He hadn’t expected Isaac to answer him so truthfully. But now that he got his answer, he could imagine the possibility quite easily. Dracula would have asked his more loyal forgemaster to take down the naive, abstruse one once the job of destroying humanity was done. Isaac, who had always been bent to absolute obedience, would have agreed. And Hector didn’t doubt that Dracula would have asked for his death with some measure of regret - telling Isaac to kill him humanely, painlessly… preferably in his sleep.

Imagining that intimate betrayal hurt Hector almost physically.

“Thank you for being so thoughtful,” Hector pursed his lips, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

“I thought you’d appreciate it too,” Isaac nodded in agreement and Hector was relieved when he saw the way his full lips twisted down into a frown. It appeared that Isaac also found the idea of murdering him distasteful.

Hector phrased his next words carefully.

“If we find that artefact, will you try to bring Dracula back?”

“I haven’t made a decision yet,” Isaac answered and Hector noticed more notes of uncertainty in his voice.

“If there’s a possibility that you’ll bring him back, then what’s the point of offering me your friendship,” Hector argued quietly. “ Dracula will probably tear my head off for betraying him. He has a reputation to uphold.”

“Let me tell you something that I recently understood,” Isaac crossed his legs under the covers and leaned towards him. “There’s nothing certain in this world. No one knows what destiny has in store for them. Even gods fall. And I find myself regretting that caution prevented me from accepting your offer when you first reached out to me. Things could have been different if we had presented a truly unified front. So yes, I want to offer my friendship to you, even though there’s uncertainty ahead.”

It was almost too much to take in and Hector stared at his former colleague in disbelief. His heart sped up in his chest, enthusiastically telling him to agree, but he still hadn’t forgotten about how he had been deceived in the recent past, and the price that he had paid for his naivety.

“I understand that after everything, it might be quite a stretch to ask this of you,” Isaac added when Hector continued to hesitate. “You don’t have to answer me right now.”

“It’s hard for me to trust you,” Hector admitted warily. “There was a time when nothing would have pleased me more, but I’m simply not sure anymore. What could you possibly gain from being my friend?”

“You already saved my life today,” Isaac offered. “Something tells me that where we’re going I will need someone like you by my side.”

Although he hardly deserved the credit, Hector felt warmth spread through his chest at Isaac’s acknowledgement. At the time it had seemed like the most natural thing - it hadn’t even occurred to him to try to save himself without helping Isaac. Now he realized that if he had chosen to run, the other forgemaster might not have made it out.

Thinking back on it, Hector knew that he wouldn’t have done it any other way.

“Someone like me,” he raised an eyebrow, hopeful despite trying hard to remain cautious.

“A fellow survivor,” Isaac said earnestly, and that simple word made Hector’s chest tighten with emotion. There were a whole number of meanings behind it. They were fellow survivors of Dracula’s doomed campaign, but also both of them had experienced more horrors in their brief lives, than most people did in the entirety of their old age.

The acknowledgement of their similarities made Hector want to trust Isaac even more.

“Alright. I’ll be glad to call you my friend,” Hector couldn’t suppress a smile as he extended his hand to Isaac. Isaac looked at his palm and after a moment of consideration, took it firmly.

“Friends,” he agreed solemnly and Hector tried not to smile like a fool.

Isaac didn’t need to know that he was Hector’s first human friend, but it was hard to stop grinning when Isaac’s lips tilted up so generously in response. Candlelight brought out warm amber specs in the other forgemaster’s beautiful eyes, and the way he looked at Hector made him feel more seen than he had ever felt in his entire life.

The experience left him giddy, but he remembered to release Isaac’s hand before he clutched it for too long.

“I don’t suppose you want a kiss with that,” Hector attempted to disperse the tension with a joke.

“Like Benedictine monks? I’m surprised you still remember that. I was being sarcastic back then,” Isaac leaned back with a small frown.

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Hector chuckled, getting a little flustered. He had managed to make things awkward after all. “I was only kidding.”

“If you want to commemorate our friendship, I’d suggest an exchange of some sort,” Isaac reasoned.

For some reason Hector felt a little disappointed.

“Perhaps an exchange of tokens, or favors,” Isaac continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Hector was glad that the other man wasn’t looking at him, because he was certain that he was blushing. Some daft part of his brain still insisted that an exchange of kisses would have sufficed.

Isaac pulled his satchel from underneath the covers. Even during sleep, the other forgemaster kept his belongings close, which was something that Hector could relate to well enough. He briefly caught the sight of the polished chest in which the remote viewing mirror was encased, Isaac’s most prized possession, before his new friend pulled out a tin box and presented it to him with a modest smile.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can give you right now. For your new sword,” Isaac explained when Hector took the tin from his hands and opened it. Inside he discovered a weather stone, blade oil, and some sanding sponges. “I noticed that the edge isn’t very well maintained. With this you could make it as sharp as a razor.”

“Thank you,” Hector answered quietly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given a gift. Maybe his parents had given him something when he was little, but he just couldn’t recall it anymore. “That’s very thoughtful. I don’t have anything to give you…”

“This wasn’t the best gift either,” Isaac reassured him. “It’s just temporary until I figure out what I really want to give you.”

“Thank you,” Hector murmured again and uncertain what to do with himself stared at the tin box in his hands, afraid that if he looked at his new friend, he was going to have some embarrassing emotional reaction, like laughing or bursting into tears.

“We’re both tired,” Isaac gave him a convenient way out. “You should try to at least lie down and rest for a couple of hours.”

“Yes,” Hector agreed bluntly and used the opportunity to retreat to the corner where Isaac had left bedding for him.

He didn’t dare to look back as he buried himself under the thick blankets, finding their rough texture and substantial weight comforting. They reminded him of simpler times, when he had lived alone in his hovel in Rhodes, where winters got so cold and windy that the moist sea breeze froze in horizontal icicles on the windows and walls. He had kept warm in blankets such as those, and had felt content to be out of the weather in a safe place that he could call his own.

Nestled in such familiar comfort, even the presence of the others didn’t feel like a threat, so he allowed himself to relax. If anything, the steady rhythm of Isaac’s breathing lulled him to sleep with the promise of safety.

If he had just swallowed another sweet lie, Hector supposed that there was still time until he had to face the consequences. But right now he had his freedom and a new friend, and that was more than the best he had hoped for during his last few months of captivity.


	6. So many roads to tread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector and Isaac grow closer while they travel together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening again - the chapter count is growing XD Seems to be my fate to add more chapters when it comes to this pairing. Massive thanks to my beta Moonstonemama for all her help! See the notes at the end for more of that, because spoilers ;) And massive thanks to everyone who supported this story with comments, cudos and bookmarks! You guys are the best!!! Enjoy!

By the next morning the feral night creatures were gone. Without a forgemaster’s will to guide them, demons were hectic beings that abhorred sunlight and rarely stayed in one place, so their departure didn’t surprise anyone.

“Off to terrorize nearby settlements,” Miranda assumed tiredly as she walked around her sunlit porch with a small charm tightly clutched in her hands.

“If they come back we’ll deal with them,” Isaac assured her, standing a little further away on the edge of a mound and surveying the surroundings.

Needing to rest his injured ankle, Hector stayed behind on their request, waiting instead by the threshold of the sorceress’ home. He hated to feel useless and remained near with his sword on his belt, just in case he was needed.

Luckily those night creatures never returned and during the several days long stay at Miranda’s place, Hector learned a lot about the sorceress. For example, Miranda wasn’t a regular magician or alchemist - she called herself an artificer and she had learned her craft in the distant lands to the east. For her magic and science were the same thing and in her youth she had created a whole arsenal of charms - objects imbued with magic, which she still used today.

Isaac was as curious if not more so than Hector about Miranda’s craft and they spent many long evenings pouring over the sorceress’ diagrams and books, while she explained to them how her magic worked.

During those peaceful moments, as he listened to fascinating tales of places so far away, and mystical methods, stranger than his wildest imagination, Hector’s eyes often strayed to Isaac’s face. While the other forgemaster listened to Miranda’s tales, the tension around his stern eyes smoothed out leaving behind an image of sweet, rounded features that made Isaac look young and almost innocent.

Knowing what Hector knew, it was ludicrous to mistake Isaac for an innocent. However, watching the pensive expression while lost in his thoughts, Hector could have easily likened Isaac’s quiet, reserved demeanor to the attitude of a saint.

But of course, it wasn’t just the intensity of Isaac’s mind and the serenity of his expression that made Hector draw the comparison. It was also Isaac’s solemn beauty, which belied his dangerous nature. Nothing about the way Isaac dressed or adorned himself purposefully drew attention or spoke of vanity. Even the markings on his face and body, Isaac’s only decorations, were so subdued that Isaac might as well have been born with them.

Sometimes while Miranda and Isaac were engrossed in discussion, and Hector was supposedly listening, he caught his mind wandering to the strangest places. Such as, what did Isaac’s religious practices actually entail? Were there other things that he abstained from, besides alcohol? Not that it was any of Hector’s business, but he did recall that Isaac had eaten pork in Dracula’s castle, even though Islam forbid it. He wanted to ask his friend how exactly his faith worked and how did he choose which rules to follow.

But there were other things Hector was curious about too, even if he felt ashamed for considering them. For example, he couldn’t stop wondering if Isaac had chosen to remain celibate. In the time that they had served Dracula together, Hector had caught whispers about his fellow general’s frigidity and his repeated rebuking of sensual offers. Although, Hector put little stock in gossip - he could only guess what the vampires had whispered about him behind his back, and doubted it had been any kinder, or more truthful than what had been said about Isaac. Furthermore, it seemed ridiculous if Isaac abstained from sex, after he had sided with Dracula and thus became responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands. Surely in his God’s eyes the murder of so many people was a harsher sin then something as simple and meaningless as the joining of bodies.

Not that Hector liked to think about that - all his memories being those of Lenore, his first and only lover. The sensual moments were poisoned by how used it had made him feel when he had no choice but to comply with her wishes, regardless of what he felt. Remembering himself agreeing to her degrading whims made him shudder with revulsion. So much so that when he failed to quiet those thoughts, Hector had to try to physically get away.

“Are you well,” Isaac asked as Hector shakily got up, leaving the conversation and limping away towards the front door.

“Yeah, just the food’s too rich for my stomach,” he tried to explain his sudden nausea as he fled outside. The afternoon sun and the fresh air helped chase away the memories of Carmilla’s castle better than anything else. There he hadn’t been allowed to see sunlight, nor to be outside unsupervised. The simple freedom to limp around the porch and find a sun-warmed spot in the dry grass to sit down and inhale lungfuls of cool air helped him to forget.

He sat with his eyes closed and face turned towards the sun for a few long moments before he heard the door open once again and footsteps move in his direction. It was Isaac, and Hector knew without a doubt that the other man was making his approach known on purpose. Of course, he appreciated it, but it annoyed him to be treated as if he was fragile nevertheless.

“May I join you,” was all that Isaac said. Hector’s stomach twisted with a mixture of emotions that were too strong and too complex to identify. But above all else was longing. Of course he wanted his friend to join him! Of course he wanted the company, the care and the comfort!

He could have screamed it to the heavens, but instead he tried to hide just how vulnerable he felt and answered as curtly as he could.

“Do whatever you like, it’s not my land.”

Thankfully his rudeness didn’t chase Isaac away and the other man sat down beside Hector in silence. Hector didn’t know why Isaac did that, why he chose to stay and offer him the support of his nearness when he couldn’t even summon the strength to give back even a word of gratitude in return. Still, Isaac remained and asked no questions, and that was enough to help Hector remember how to breathe.

...

Days passed by quicker than Hector wanted them to go and soon his ankle was healed enough to continue their journey. And when the time to leave finally arrived, Hector realized that he never wanted to leave the safety and quiet of Miranda’s house. That place had never meant to be a home to him, and he doubted that his presence had been anything but a burden on the old woman, but selfishly, Hector wished that he could stay if only just another day.

But it wasn’t for him to impose and also, Isaac’s patience was wearing thin. Hector had noticed that as time went by his friend itched to continue their quest in search of a way to regain their powers. Hector supposed that he knew partially why Isaac was on edge - the practice of magic was addictive and Isaac was likely experiencing its withdrawals already. Hector had felt them too during the long march to Styria when he hadn’t been allowed to forge. Thankfully the exhaustion and pain of that horrible journey had soothed the urges of addiction. However, Isaac wasn’t so lucky - with nothing else to occupy his mind, the severance from his practice of magic had to be hard to bear. Isaac was doing a marvelous job of hiding it, but for someone who knew what it was like, the far-away gazes into nothingness, the little twitches of his fingers, the restless tapping of his foot and the grinding of his jaw gave Isaac’s disquiet away.

Upon their parting Miranda offered the forgemasters’ provisions for the road and three of her precious charms. Each of them was imbued in an object. There was a lightning storm contained in a flask with a tarnished brass lid engraved with incantations. Then there was a flesh-decaying poison cloud, inside a crystal carved in the shape of a skull. Finally there was an all-key charm, a mechanical contraption that could be arranged in numerous ways to create the shape of different keys for all manner of doors. Those gifts were almost too much to accept, but Miranda insisted that they would need the charms if they wanted to find the Undimmed Light.

…

By Isaac’s estimation, they had several weeks of travel to the west until they reached the high mountainous region to which their map pointed. According to Miranda’s research the forgotten Byzanteen abbey was carved into the rocky slopes somewhere high between the vertical ravines.

But to get there they had to first descend the barren slopes where Miranda lived and journey downwards towards a wide alpine valley, nestled just under the threatening, snow-covered mountains to the north.

Hector tried not to look north as they traveled. He recalled being dragged with a rope behind Carmilla’s army on the way up those same steap cliffs. The memory brought back pain, bitterness and cold that he prefered to forget. And what awaited him at that journey’s end wasn’t better either. Lenore’s intimate betrayal had been the final drop. And even if he knew that she was no longer there, the castle had been destroyed by the archdemon and Lenore had fled somewhere to the south, Hector felt too shaken to even glance in that direction.

...

On the first night they made camp under the shelter of a small stone arch that had formed by the perpetual wind, which blew between the alpine mountains. Hector collected whatever dry twigs he could and started a fire while Isaac arranged their bedrolls and prepared a small meal with their dry supplies. There was no water to be found, but their flasks were still half-full and they knew that they would come across many streams on the next day as they descended further into the green valley to the south-west, which was their next destination.

They ate in silence and shared the companionable warmth of the fire as the night got darker and the stars rose high in the sky. The wind howled forlornly like a ghost and the air was getting colder as their firewood quickly finished. Hector shivered and lied down in his bedspread, tucking himself under the blankets and wrapping his cloak further around himself for good measure. It was going to be a long, cold night.

“What are we, Hector, without our powers?”

Isaac’s murmur surprised him. When he opened his eyes to look at him, Isaac was still sitting up, absent-mindedly poking the dying flames with his dagger. His eyes were lit up and glowing almost as red as the embers, his expression was scrunched and troubled.

“We’re still the same,” Hector answered after some contemplation, knowing what concerned Isaac, and not wanting to give him the answer, which the other man dreaded. They were humans. The kind of creatures that they both abhorred. However, their magic was still dormant within them, and the night creatures, which they had unleashed, still terrorized the denizens of Europe. So Hector added, “For better or for worse, nothing’s going to erase who we are and what we’ve done.”

There was a small silence in between, and Hector watched the fire cast flickering shadows across Isaac’s face. The sharp patterns made the other man’s high cheekbones look even sharper than usual, but it was his full, sensual lips that drew Hector’s attention.

Swallowing past his dry throat, Hector wished that he had the will to stop staring at Isaac’s mouth, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It looked so soft, so alluring as it moved, inviting despite the bitter words it said.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Isaac’s voice was so quiet, that Hector struggled to hear it over the cracking of the embers and the wailing of the wind. “Is there a point to this? Is there even a point to all this suffering…”

“It hurts when it’s trapped inside and you can’t do anything to ease it,” Hector offered when Isaac trailed off, guessing what manner of urges were terrorizing his companion. “The magic wants its way out.”

“Yes,” Isaac admitted reluctantly, eyes closing in defeat.

“I know,” Hector lifted himself to his elbow. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help ease the other man’s withdrawal, but there was nothing. He was afraid that telling Isaac of how his pain and misery had helped him go through the same experience would only push Isaac into self-mutilating practices once again. And that wasn’t something Hector ever wanted to see again.

“I get so angry sometimes,” Isaac admitted tensely, opening his eyes and looking straight into the fire. “Angry at how God keeps testing me. Every time I think I’ve gotten closer to his will, he proves me wrong! I… feel lost.”

Hector didn’t know how he could ease Isaac’s pain or relieve his insecurities. He had no answers for him. But he felt like he owed him at least that.

“You may feel like you’ve lost your way, but you saved me. I don’t know if that counts for anything on the grand scale of things but,” he hesitated, lowering his eyes, “for what it’s worth, I’m grateful that you found me.”

Isaac’s answer was stunned silence. When Hector dared to meet his gaze again, he found that some of the tension and anguish had drained from his friend’s face.

“Thank you for reminding me that I have more than enough to be grateful for,” Isaac said. “I am glad our paths crossed again, Hector. I needed a friend.”

Hector didn’t know why anyone would be grateful to have him around, but he nodded, trying to contain his rising emotions.

“You have one,” he confirmed quietly, not trusting his voice enough to speak louder. It made Isaac smile anyway.

It was… nice. Very nice even. Hector turned on his side, turning his back to Isaac to hide his burning face.

He was grateful that they had met again as well, more than he could ever express.

…

On the second day of travel they reached the green meadow at the foot of the mountains. It was a relief to their sore legs to end the steep descent over barren soil and sheer rock and to finally be able to step on soft, grassy soil.

Away from the high peaks, spring was in full-bloom and at noon the sun felt hot on Hector’s skin. How he had missed that warmth amongst the perpetual winter of Carmilla’s mountainous domain! And to top it all, the valley was filled with life. A myriad of birds chirped in the air above their heads, startled bunnies hopped out of the tall turf, and the occasional ibex could be spotted grazing in the distance, watchfully observing them as they followed an unmarked path.

Isaac walked a few meters ahead of him, sometimes stopping to consult their map before leading them on. It was easy for Hector to enjoy the treck and he felt himself smiling stupidly like a drunk as they traversed the flower-spangled landscape.

When they stopped for a quick midday meal, Hector noticed a crow landing on a rock nearby and watching them. The animal looked thin, no doubt starved from the long winter and eyeing their food with obvious interest.

“Do you want something to eat,” Hector invited the bird with a smile. He extended his hand and offered a few pieces of dried meat.

The crow hopped off the rock and flew low over Hector’s hand, snatching a piece of meat before landing a few meters away to eat it.

“Enjoy it, little fellow,” Hector smiled as he watched the bird eat. A sudden thought made him remember the other forgemaster and he looked over his shoulder to Isaac. The other man was observing him but there didn’t appear to be any judgement on his face.

“I’ve missed seeing animals,” Hector explained, a little self-consciously. “It got so lonely in Carmilla’s castle, away from all life.”

Isaac nodded and Hector secretly sighed in relief. Most people were repulsed by his habit to speak to animals, or thought that he was mad. At least Isaac didn’t seem to mind.

Having finished his meal, the crow hopped over the grass to Hector. It turned its head to the side and examined the forgemaster with one curious brown eye. Unable to resist, Hector cut more meat and continued to feed it until the bird flew away.

“It will never stop following you now,” Isaac commented when the crow circled in the air twice above them before disappearing from sight.

“That won’t be so bad,” Hector admitted.

“Better think of a name then,” Isaac offered with a small smile, which all but melted Hector’s heart.

“You think,” he chuckled, happy that Isaac accepted his little quirks. “How about Icarus?”

“Fitting,” Isaac agreed and so it was that they named Hector’s new feathery friend.

…

The forgemasters traveled for another day through the picturesque valley, making camp near a chirping stream and sleeping under the cloudless sky. It was a struggle to light a fire with the damp tree branches that they found, but Isaac managed to get it going, while Hector looked for edible herbs and greens to add to their dinner.

While his friend prepared a small meal for them Hector busied himself with spreading out their bedrolls, cleaning their various tools and other small tasks around the camp. The two men did everything in a pleasant, companionable silence as they rested from the long day of trekking through the beautiful terrain. Icarus was gone for the night, but Hector was certain that the crow would return.

After dinner they sat around the fire, warming up their hands and feet. Hector’s eyes strayed to Isaac often and it was inevitable that his friend finally noticed him looking.

“What’s on your mind,” Isaac asked and Hector felt himself blush a little for having been caught.

There was a lot on his mind, and many questions, most of them revolving around Isaac’s private person. However he doubted he was being invited to interrogate the man, so he asked the first safe thing that he could think of.

“Where are we passing through tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we should reach a forest and we’ll travel through it for a few days,” Isaac explained patiently. “Then there is a river that we’ll have to find the shallows and traverse. On the other side there starts a country with many lakes and few settlements in between. At least we should be able to use the roads and maybe find an inn to stay to wash ourselves and our clothes. From there we’ll be traveling uphill towards the Triglav mountains.”

“It will be nice to get a hot meal as well,” Hector mused with a wistful smile.

“You don’t like my cooking,” Isaac teased with a raised eyebrow and they both cackled.

A pleasant silence filled the space between them, but Hector felt disappointed that their conversation had died so quickly. He watched his friend’s small smile slowly disappear and wondered what was on Isaac’s mind.

“Something’s on your mind too,” Hector asked after some contemplation.

Isaac released a heavy sigh through the nose and nodded in confirmation.

“I haven’t seen you pray for a while,” Hector prodded warily. He didn’t think that counted as safe territory anymore, but he had been wondering if his friend’s faith was once again being shaken. Isaac hadn’t prayed since the night in the cave. That had been more than a fortnight ago.

“Just because you haven’t seen me, doesn’t mean I haven’t been praying,” Isaac informed him, but there was no bite behind the remark.

“Lately I don’t see the point to kneel and do the rites,” his friend continued heavily. “If God’s listening, then he should be able to hear me talking to him even as I walk.”

“If he’s omnipresent and omnipotent, and so on, then he should be,” Hector agreed, hoping to ease Isaac’s mind.

“That’s why I’m starting to wonder if you were right after all,” Isaac lowered his eyes to the flames. “Perhaps he’s not listening to my prayers.”

Hector’s frown deepened. He hated how crestfallen Isaac sounded.

“Perhaps we simply earned the dismissal,” Hector offered. “I’m sure that a benevolent deity won’t look kindly upon us after we sided with Dracula.”

“I thought that was necessary,” Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged there warily. “Peace on Earth cannot be achieved while humans pollute it with their endless petty acts of violence and hatred. They attack everything they cannot understand, disturbing God’s plan. God’s will in purity and innocence. I thought that we were doing a service to him by purging the world. I thought that through that act of unconditional service I was doing the right thing. But perhaps I was wrong.”

“Is that what is required by the doctrine, which you follow,” Hector prodded the topic a little more. “Loyalty, service and purity?”

“What I follow is not a doctrine,” Isaac explained calmly. “All I seek is to understand the will of God, not to bend to a dogma or the rules written by other humans.”

“So you don’t believe you’ll marry seventy two beautiful maidens in paradise,” Hector tried to elevate the mood by poking fun at religious beliefs. The answering wide-eyed look he received from Isaac made him worry that he’d severely overstepped. Just before Hector tried to apologize for his insensitivity, the other man began chuckling with dark amusement.

“Paradisal wives are supposed to be reserved only for martyrs,” Isaac said, the corner of his generous mouth tilting up with humour. “And no, I don’t expect God to give away beautiful women as a reward, as if they are nothing but objects to be owned. I don’t think that it’s His intent for any person to belong to another, no matter their gender, age or skin colour. Besides, I’ve never been interested in virgins.”

“What do you mean by that,” Hector raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“What do you think,” Isaac leveled him with an unamused stare.

Hector was awfully curious, but a little uncomfortable at the same time.

“From all the things that paradise has to offer, is it the maidens that you’re after,” Isaac continued neutrally, but the insinuation was enough to make Hector blush.

“No,” he shook his head, offended by Isaac’s low opinion of him. “Of course not! Besides, I don’t think I’d get anywhere near heaven, even if such a thing existed. I’ve already accepted my place in hell.”

Apparently the conversation was over, because Isaac lied down, tucking the blankets close and went still and quiet, as he always did when he decided to sleep.

Reluctantly Hector settled down for the night as well, pulling the covers to his chin. It was cold, like every other night, and once the fire burned down, he knew he’d wake up at least a couple of times with his toes frozen. Still, it was nothing that he hadn’t survived before, so he wasn’t about to complain.

Isaac’s words replayed in his head a few more times and Hector still couldn’t make much sense of them. The other man had been messing with him, that much was for certain. Hector laughed quietly to himself. It sounded exactly like Isaac - playing with people’s heads and then sitting back to enjoy them torturing their little brains, trying to understand what he had really meant.

“What’s so funny,” the man in question spoke softly without turning to look at him.

“Nothing,” Hector sighed. Then deciding to be clever he added, “Just trying to imagine you with seventy two brides in heaven, that’s all.”

“I prefer men,” Isaac professed so suddenly that Hector nearly choked on his own tongue. After a long moment of silence Isaac added, “Does that disturb you?”

“No,” Hector responded too quickly, feeling his blood pressure rise so much that he feared that a vein would pop. “Just… It was unexpected. That’s all.”

“I thought it was obvious,” Isaac huffed a laugh in response.

Hector struggled to find something to say that couldn’t be perceived as offensive.

“I never considered what you may like.”

Isaac hummed and went silent for the night. Hector’s heart thumped hard and he struggled to control his breathing, not wanting to give away how affected he was by the knowledge.

Biting his lower lip, he tried to calm himself, but with little success. Hector had been so convinced that there was no chance between them that in a way entertaining certain ideas had felt safe. Now he was suddenly nervous that his prolonged glances and indecent thoughts might not have gone unnoticed by the other man.

Cursing internally, he willed himself to stop thinking, keep his eyes closed and try to sleep. Isaac couldn't read minds from what he knew so far. And even if he did, there was little point to worry about it. If any damage had been done, it was done already. But perhaps there was no damage at all and Isaac didn’t mind the attention that much.

It seemed too much to hope for, but Hector wasn’t above harbouring hope even when the situation was hopeless. After all, the only thing that he had ever learned was that he never learned.

…  
…  
…

About a week into their travel they entered a thick, deciduous forest which spanned for many kilometers in the direction that they were headed. So far they hadn’t found any roads, except for the paths left by animals, which made the passage difficult and hard to navigate.

Very slowly they made their way south-west, looking for the river that separated the wilderness from the inhabited lands beyond. As beautiful as woodlands could be, Isaac prefered to travel on roads, surrounded by the convenience of civilization. By now he was used to life of travel, preparing simple meals, sleeping on the cold, hard earth and washing in freezing rivers and lakes. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t trade just about anything for a night under a roof and a steaming hot bath.

So far the weather had been blessedly favorable, but as fate would have it, that was overdue for a change. The spring storms were coming and the pregnant sky hung heavy and low over the treetops, making daytime almost as dark as dusk. Soon fat drops began to fall between the leaves, filling the forest with the rising susurrus of rain. The wind rose to howl ominously between the dense trunks, chasing away whatever warmth had clung to the shadows under the trees.

“We better make camp,” Hector suggested when the downpour didn’t let up but only got worse.

Isaac had to agree. There was no point in trying to stay on schedule. If they got wet and caught some sickness they were going to be delayed even further. It was best to make camp early and weather the storm under the shelter of their tarp.

They walked briskly, looking for a secluded place to build their camp. The best they managed to find was a centuries-old oak. Its thick trunk provided some measure of shelter from the wind and some low branches to hang ropes over to suspend the tarp and make a roof.

Moving as one, they got to work. The wind caused the thick, waterproof cloth to flap wildly in their hands as they secured it by bolting it to the trunk on one side and weighing it down close to the ground with rocks on the other.

By the time they crawled under the shelter their cloaks were soaked, but the space was already too small for two men to comfortably share it, and certainly not enough for a fire to be lit inside. So they sat hunched under the low-hanging tarp, facing each other and shivering from the cool gusts, which still managed to enter from the sides. Soon what had started as heavy rain was a full-blown storm. Treetops shook in the strong wind and small leaves and branches fell on the canvas above them.

Hector pulled his hood over his head to protect his hair from the rain sprays that managed to fly into their shelter. In the end, they settled amongst the protruding roots with their backs to the enormous tree trunk, pressing their sides together for whatever warmth and protection of the wind that they could get from each other.

Hector reached for their supply bag and began cutting thin stripes of meat. Usually when he did that, Icarus was already on his shoulder, waiting to be fed first, but the crow had left them when they entered the forest, no doubt sensing the change of weather before the humans could.

From the corner of his eyes Isaac keenly observed the knife in Hector’s hands. It felt strange to be sitting so close to another man who held a blade, while Isaac’s own hands were empty of weapons. Being able to trust so much felt unfamiliar and somehow enticing. Isaac liked the sense of familiarity that he got, the sense of security.

When Hector cut two pieces and handed one to Isaac, he accepted it with a nod of gratitude and began working on the chewy meat. His friend popped the other one into his mouth and they remained like that - quietly eating, each immersed in their own thoughts. Letting out a small sigh of contentment, Isaac settled more firmly against Hector’s shoulder.

The silent ritual went on for a while, Hector cutting pieces of food and passing half of them to Isaac. When he was finally finished the ashen-haired man stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking the grease from his tanned fingertips.

“Still hungry,” Isaac commented, trying to avoid the sight of Hector licking his own fingers. He sincerely doubted his collegue knew what sort of a sight he made and the inappropriate ideas that it invoked in Isaac’s mind.

“Yes, but I think I’m just bored,” Hector sighed, putting away the knife and wrapping their supplies securely.

Isaac bit his tongue. He could think of a couple of activities to entertain Hector, but God forbid he said that out loud! Staring out into the distance, Isaac was grateful that no matter how close they were sitting, Hector couldn’t perceive his thoughts or see into his eyes the images that flashed just behind them.

Gaze remaining unfocused, Isaac smoothed his features to guard his thoughts. Briefly he allowed his mind to be filled with now familiar fantasies of olive-coloured skin laid over sheets of silk. He allowed the fragrances and spices of an illusory tropical night to replace the bitter sensations of rain and wind. The forest around them disappeared, but he remained with Hector in his own perfect little world...

Usually Isaac didn’t allow such imaginings to dominate his thoughts. They were only involuntary fragments that populated his dreams and sometimes slipped into his musings during the day. But at present, with little else to do, he indulged in the harmlessness of it all, letting time pass by without notice, until slowly he became aware that Hector was leaning on him more and more. His friend’s breathing slowed down and his head rolled on Isaac’s shoulder.

Being used as a pillow wasn’t as annoying as Isaac wanted it to be. If anything, Hector’s soft exhales warmed his neck just a bit, causing little shivers of pleasure to skate along his skin. However, as harmless as fantasies could be, Isaac was beginning to feel like he was taking advantage of the other man’s unawareness, so he nudged him awake.

“We might as well get the bedrolls out,” he suggested.

…

They set up their usual sleeping arrangements, except that there was only a marginal space between their bedrolls. Isaac couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about being happy with the closeness. He told himself that it was only natural to desire warmth, but nothing more.

The forest was grey and dark, and Isaac judged it to be late afternoon. However, days of travel had exhausted them enough, and once they were both bundled in their respective blankets, each of them quickly drifted asleep.

…

Isaac woke up during the night from the sound of thunder shaking the forest. The storm was back and the tarp had swiveled on one side, creating a furrow that led the entire rainfall to sprout over Isaac’s legs. His bedroll was soaked through, warm from his body and cold from the water flow. Cursing quietly Isaac sat up and kicked his drenched cloak and blankets aside.

“What’s happening,” Hector startled from sleep, sitting up and looking around with wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Isaac grumbled. “I just need to fix the tarp.”

Angry to be woken up in the middle of the night and at the way that things just kept getting worse, Isaac got out of their makeshift shelter. The rain was beating down his back, soaking the thin material of his coat, but he was way past caring at that point. There was no way he was going to sleep dry that night. He pulled on the watery canvas, trying to fix it.

“Get back in here,” Hector’s hand closed around his calf lightly.

“I need to fix this,” Isaac growled in frustration.

Lightning illuminated the sky, outlining the dark silhouettes of the trees. No matter how Isaac tried to adjust the tarp, it kept furrowing on his side and splashing water over his bedding. Soon the forgemaster’s sleeves were sticking to his forearms, and his back was completely drenched. To his surprise, Hector crawled out of the shelter and tried to help him. The only thing that it achieved was eliciting a continuous string of curses from the other man.

“This is pointless! Come on! Let’s get back inside,” Hector pulled his arm when it became clear that they were doing more harm than good.

With a weary sigh, Isaac let his friend drag him back under the make-shift tent. They were shivering and breathing hard from the cold. Isaac tried to squeeze some water from his coat. Standing on his knees, Hector pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the pile of wet blankets.

“Come here, we’ll share,” Hector offered, beckoning to Isaac to join him on his relatively dry side of the encampment.

Isaac could only gape at the shirtless man extending a hand to him. If Hector knew how he looked with his tousled hair sticking to his neck and cheeks, and his toned torso exposed, he wouldn’t have invited Isaac anywhere near him. Shuddering even harder, Isaac shook his head resolutely.

“Why are you like that,” Hector sounded offended. “Are you disgusted to be near me or something?”

“What are you saying,” Isaac raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Why would I be disgusted to be near you?”

“I don’t know,” Hector shrugged and wrapped his arms around his chest. He looked so vulnerable that Isaac couldn’t reject his offer further.

It was a real shame that Hector didn’t realize how attractive he was, but Isaac couldn’t lecture him on it without revealing too much about himself. So for a lack of anything better to reassure the other man, he agreed to the terrible idea of sharing a bedroll.

“Fine,” he huffed and crawled over the small distance to kneel by Hector’s side.

It was the stupidest thing he could have done, and he knew it. Worst of all, he couldn’t even blame it on Hector. A part of Isaac was weak - always had been - eager to give in to every temptation. He cursed himself for being a corrupt creature, just like all the other humans that he abhorred.

Even if remaining in his drenched clothing beat the purpose of getting in Hector’s dry bedroll, Isaac knew that he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he felt the other man’s naked skin against his own. Hector didn’t complain about his wet coat as he made space for Isaac, turning on his side and propping his head on his arm while the other one he pulled away to rest on his side. Isaac lied on his back next to him, tense and immobile after he pulled the covers on top of them both. It was going to be a long night.

Even under all the blankets they were still miserably cold and damp, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It was almost enough to take Isaac’s mind off the way Hector’s chest pressed against his shoulder every time the other forgemaster inhaled.

Averting his eyes to the side and attempting to direct his thoughts to the journey ahead, Isaac tried not to mind Hector’s breath on his face. It warmed his chilled skin tantalizingly, making promises that Isaac tried not to heed… and yet, his mind strayed to his earlier imaginings. Isaac urged himself to chase the thoughts away, to focus and control himself, but the masculine aroma of the other man’s body clouded his judgement and filled his thoughts with lust. Unwittingly Isaac let his eyes slide shut and his lips part with longing for contact other than the moist forest air.

The space between them grew hotter and it wasn’t just Isaac heating up. Hector’s skin burned where it touched his clothed shoulder, and soon it became unbearably warm under the thick blankets. Kicking them down a little, Isaac discreetly glanced through his lashes to the other man and caught Hector staring at his profile.

Once he was aware of the other man’s attention, Isaac continued to feel Hector’s gaze on him. Those pale eyes traveled over Isaac’s neck and shoulders, hot like the other man’s breath, leaving a trail of shivers wherever they went. Under such intense scruinity Isaac couldn’t resist wetting his dry lips with his tongue and he didn’t miss that Hector gasped in response to that display.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” Isaac asked the obvious question.

“Just because, you’re quite pleasant to look at.”

It was the most unexpected thing that Hector could have said and Isaac wasn’t certain how to take the compliment and what it even meant coming from him. The other man had never acknowledged his appearance in any way - good or bad, nor had he shown any interest in other men before. Still, he couldn’t help smiling just a bit from the warmth of being acknowledged in favorable terms.

“Thank you,” he nodded a little. And then, because he was still just a soft, weak man, no better than the others, Isaac admitted: “I… didn’t expect you to think that about me.”

“Really? Why not?”

Hector sounded genuinely surprised. Isaac opened his eyes and turned to look at him.

“Perhaps, because of my dark skin,” he answered neutrally, hiding years of trauma behind a well-practiced facade of nonchalance. “Or my African features, my tattoos. Most of your people don’t find me attractive. They call me savage. Unrefined. Barbarian.”

Hector blinked rapidly, looking at him with disbelief. He shifted until his hand was hovering just shy of touching Isaac’s jaw. Isaac struggled not to flinch, tense, or forget how to breathe.

“Dracula used to call them the little people, remember,” Hector answered softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Isaac lowered his eyes, huffing out a laugh as he fondly remembered it. There was a bittersweet ache when he remembered their former Master, the things he said and the good times that they had.

“Yes, I remember,” he admitted and closed his eyes, trying to quiet down his heart as Hector’s fingertips brushed against his cheek. It was a most gentle caress and Isaac wasn’t certain that he deserved it.

“Then you must know that they are not my people at all,” Hector whispered quietly and Isaac could feel his breath now fanning against his lips.

Slowly and wearily, as if expecting to be chided, Hector traced his thumb over the hollow of Isaac’s cheek. The feeling of being touched like that was surreal. Isaac didn’t remember a time when he was treated like someone so treasured. All he could do in response to such kindness was stay frozen and let the other man explore his features tentatively, blunt fingertips ghosting over his jaw and chin and stopping at the corner of his mouth.

Isaac’s eyes flew open and met Hector’s again. The forgemaster’s pupils were blown so wide that the blue had all but disappeared. Isaac couldn’t believe that any of that was truly happening - it seemed impossible…

What if, all of it was just an act of desperation, a need to please, twisting Hector into doing something that he wouldn’t do in his right mind?

Isaac caught Hector’s wrist to stop his ministrations. That sparked a little uncertainty in his friend and halted his movements, but then Hector glanced at their intertwined fingertips and after that back to Isaac’s eyes. What secrets he unwittingly gave away, Isaac couldn’t tell, but before he knew it, Hector’s moment of hesitation had passed and locked their mouths in a kiss.

It was nothing like what Isaac had expected from the naive and inexperienced forgemaster. Instead of fumbling, Hector kissed like someone who knew exactly what he was doing, deliberately seducing with calculated dragging of teeth and sensual flicks of tongue.

All of Isaac’s iron will melted under the heat of Hector’s embrace and he went slack under his weight when Hector rolled on top of him and pinned him down. Isaac’s mouth parted on its own, allowing Hector to conquer him further, deepening the kiss until his tongue was doing lewd things to Isaac’s mouth that flooded his brain with ecstatic ideas of what was to come.

There was nothing easier than to give in and fall even further, and Isaac’s body answered with the same fervour, returning the kiss with hunger and need, biting Hector's lips and sucking on his tongue for more. The silver-haired man gave it all, hips rolling against Isaac’s own, grinding down with purpose and making both men moan.

It wasn’t enough. Isaac turned them around and pressed Hector to the ground, attacking his lips with urgency and a bruising force that left his mouth swollen and tingling when he finally gathered the will to pull away.

“Please don’t stop,” Hector protested, his voice almost unrecognisably low. “Don’t you know how you’re making me feel?”

“Your arousal is quite easy to feel,” Isaac admitted, gasping heavily and trying to create some distance between them, in order to clear his head. “But I am not convinced that this is more than a desperate move to please me. I don’t need you to do this!”

Hector was pulling him close again, and the thrill of being locked in the other forgemaster’s arms made Isaac feel dizzy and weak.

“It’s nothing of the sort,” Hector denied urgently. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Prove it to me then,” Isaac challenged, holding Hector back with arms that shook, his body betraying how much it cost him to resist.

“How? What more could I do,” Hector demanded.

“I want you to slow down,” Isaac explained and Hector looked utterly confused, so he elaborated. “If this is not just an act of desperation, then this should be enough for now.”

“But…” Hector let his hold on Isaac slack just enough that they were not so flush against each other. “I don’t understand… don’t you want this?”

“I do. Do you?”

“I… of course,” Hector sounded more and more uncertain by the second. Isaac could see his confusion and it was painfully familiar to him. He could guess exactly what kind of impulses were driving Hector’s need for him, and he doubted they were what the other man mistook them for.

“If you want to be close to me, you don’t have to fuck me,” Isaac tried to reassure him. “Nothing needs to change between us, Hector. I’m not going to act differently towards you.”

Hector finally released him and Isaac shuffled back to give his friend a little space. Hector looked lost, anxious and frustrated. Isaac didn’t want him to think that he was rejected, so he stroked his hair, feeling its cool, damp tresses slide between his fingers. Hector shuddered and leaned into Isaac’s caress.

“You seem to know me better than I know myself,” Hector admitted. “I want you, Isaac, I really do, please don’t stop. I’m just …”

“Not ready,” Isaac finished for him and witnessed the moment when Hector’s eyes filled with tears before he promptly blinked them away.

“I’m not broken,” Hector argued defiantly.

“No, but you need time,” Isaac told him. “I know exactly what you’re feeling. I have been through it before.”

“Who hurt you,” Hector asked very quietly. The question was loaded, and neither of them could look at the other.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Isaac hated how shaky his voice came out. He had gotten over his childhood trauma a long time ago. But something in the rawness he read in Hector’s emotions made him experience it again. “They are all dead. I’ve extracted my vengeance on everyone who’s ever laid hands on me.”

“Please forgive me,” Hector whispered. “I wasn’t thinking… I shouldn’t have treated you so roughly. I just assumed-”

“No harm done,” Isaac reassured him. The firmness of Hector’s touches was the last thing he was going to complain about.

He ran his fingers through Hector’s hair again, stroking the other man until Hector lowered his head in sweet surrender. Isaac took the opportunity to pull him closer and tuck Hector’s head under his chin, holding the other man protectively.

Tentatively, Hector wrapped his arms back around him and Isaac felt warmth bloom in his chest. It was different from the searing heat that they had exchanged earlier - less likely to injure and burn. It was a soft, comforting feeling that they created between them. It was safe.

“You’re too kind to me,” Hector whispered after a while. Isaac inhaled the fresh scent of the other man’s damp hair and smiled.

“No more than you are to me,” he answered just as quietly.

“May I kiss you again,” Hector asked and it was such a tiny plea, laced with insecurity and fear that Isaac couldn’t reject him even if he tried.

He lowered his chin and Hector raised his and their mouths met one more time. Isaac kept his lips firmly closed, giving only the most chaste contact that he was capable of. He felt Hector sigh and shiver against him. His fingertips dug into Isaac’s back, leaving shallow trails that set Isaac’s skin on fire. It was only with the greatest effort that Isaac managed to pull away when he did.

“Thank you,” Hector whispered and Isaac pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He didn’t know if what he was doing was right or wrong, but he was certainly trying to do right by the other man. Right by both of them.

He only hoped that he hadn’t made a mistake.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should thank Moonstonemama for that kiss XD  
> It almost didn't make it into this chapter, because I'm evil and I like to prologue the mutual pining endlessly. Thankfully you have a guardian angel on your side, pushing me towards making progress with the romantic side of this story :D


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector and Isaac enjoy a moment of respite before they continue on their quest...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting monstrously long, so with my dear friend and beta's suggestion, I split it in half! You should really thank Moonstonemama for looking out for you all - otherwise this would have taken me another week or more to publish :)  
> As it is, you will get another update very soon! I hope you like this instalment!

On the next morning, the forgemasters went through the familiar motions of wrapping up their camp a little awkwardly, each keeping to himself. They broke fast as they set off on the muddy forest path once again, snacking on their dried supplies without slowing down the pace of their walk.

Soon the silence between them grew heavier than the humid air that condensed into clouds of mist under the morning sun, and Hector got restless. He vaguely remembered the warmth of Isaac’s body from the moments before he had fully awoken. He was filled with insecurity, because the other man had snuck out from his arms while he still slept. Isaac probably regretted the night before, and Hector couldn't help the sickening feeling that he had somehow forced the intimacy between them, even if he had no rational explanation for that idea.

Isaac had assumed the role of their map-reader and guide as per usual, and was walking a little ahead. It was the usual arrangement, but on that morning the distance between them made Hector’s unease grow. He wanted to know where they stood and if he had made a mistake, he was eager to smooth things out between them. He couldn’t afford to lose Isaac’s regard - his friendship was the only valuable thing that Hector had.

Picking up the pace, he caught up to the other forgemaster, and aligned their steps, so that they could walk side by side. Isaac threw him a curious glance before he returned his gaze to the forest ahead.

“I want to know if I owe you an apology,” Hector explained. He wished he knew a way to ease into the conversation, but he only knew how to express himself bluntly. “If I did something wrong last night, please tell me, so that I can make it up to you.”

Isaac stopped and turned to face him. A little intimidated by the scope of Isaac’s full attention, Hector lowered his head and gazed at his feet.

“You did nothing wrong,” the other man answered calmly and Hector watched in bewilderment as Isaac’s boots stepped closer until their toes were almost touching. Next came Isaac’s hands, which cupped Hector’s jaw and applied gentle pressure, prompting him to raise his chin and meet those enticing russet eyes.

Everything felt different when they faced each other in the clarity of day. There was none of the haziness and confusion that accompanied their hastily exchanged caresses from the previous night. When Isaac’s gaze roamed over him, Hector felt his cheeks glow. He cursed himself for getting so obviously flustered in response but the scruinity felt less focused than usual. The hard lines of Isaac’s mouth were soft and relaxed, a gentle parting between his full lips revealing just a hint of white teeth-

There was no way that Isaac hadn’t noticed him staring. Thankfully the small smirk on Isaac’s part betrayed no offense, quite the contrary, his friend seemed to enjoy Hector’s attention.

“Are you going to look at me all day,” Isaac’s voice was pitched low, when he spoke. “Or are you going to do something about it?”

Hector was too stunned to immediately respond, his eyebrows quirking up in surprise.

“Are you -” he tried to find the right words, “... making a move on me?”

“It seems that I am,” Isaac sounded entertained by Hector’s blundering.

However, it seemed that Hector hesitated for a moment too long, because the light behind Isaac’s smile flickered and was quickly extinguished. His dark brows drew together in a small scowl. Hector had never seen Isaac wear such an uncertain expression before. It didn’t go unnoticed, despite his friend's best efforts to hide it.

“Come on, let’s keep going,” Isaac concluded drily, turning away and picking up the pace.

Hector helplessly watched Isaac’s back disappear down the overgrown woodland path. More than anything, Hector wanted to call out after him, say the right words and fix the moment that he had just destroyed, but he didn’t know what those words could be, and was afraid that if he tried, the result could end up being quite the opposite. Mentally berating himself, Hector tightened his jaw and marched after the other forgemaster. The least he could do for him was try to keep up.

…

“Always on time for food, Icarus,” Isaac greeted the crow, which darted out of the trees and landed on Hector’s shoulders as soon as the forgemasters stopped for their midday meal.

Hector laughed at Isaac’s remark and stroked the bird’s feathers with a finger. Just listening to Isaac’s voice could be intoxicating, but when the other man spoke to their feathered friend, Hector’s heart all but melted in his chest.

The momentary shift in attention earned him a hard peck from the crow’s beak, replacing Hector’s grin with a look of annoyance. He yanked his bleeding fingers away from Icarus.

“Well, excuse me,” he murmured to the bird as he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked on it, “I should have known you’re only here for the food.”

Isaac chuckled and waved a piece of meat to the crow, which immediately flew off Hector’s shoulder to land on that of the other forgemaster.

“Look at that,” Isaac commented smugly. “Your friend’s a little traitor.”

“You seem to attract traitors,” Hector answered in jest, but it made Isaac’s easy smile disappear from his face. Hector’s stomach twisted into knots in response to the sudden sense of dread.

“I sincerely hope that’s not the case,” Isaac answered gravely.

“That’s not what I meant,” he blurted out, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Isaac was quiet for a while and Hector pulled his legs close to his chest, fingers digging into his knees in helpless frustration with himself. He couldn’t believe that he kept saying the wrong things to Isaac. At this rate, he was going to completely ruin every chance he had with the other man. When Isaac kept staring into the distance away from him, Hector tried to ignore him in return and resume eating, but the food had lost its flavor in his mouth and took more effort than it should to swallow.

“I believe I overreacted,” Isaac offered a little contritely after a while. “Let’s not dwell on the past anymore.”

“You’re letting me off the hook, just like that?” Hector blurted out in disbelief. “I’ve earned your distrust and your contempt. I don’t know why you still put up with me!”

He shut his mouth, cringing at his own words and tried to school his expression to something neutral. If only the earth could open up and swallow him whole so that he would be spared of this humiliation. How was Isaac supposed to take him seriously, respect or like him, when everything Hector said sounded so childish and insecure?

With a sigh Isaac stood up, causing Icarus to take flight. Hector stiffened as the other man approached him, but managed not to flinch when Isaac stopped and loomed over him for a tense moment. Hector totally expected to get slapped, but instead Isaac sat down right next to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Hector’s mind went completely blank at the unexpected gesture of closeness and support.

“I made mistakes too,” Isaac murmured quietly. “I could ask you the same thing - why do you put up with me? Why aren’t you disgusted with me?”

Hector nodded mutely. He got what Isaac was trying to say, but he disagreed. No matter what had happened, no matter what Isaac regretted, there was no way Hector could ever be put off by the only person who treated him with understanding. He licked his lips and contemplated what he should say, but since words were so hard to come by he did the only thing he thought could express how he felt.

He turned to look at Isaac and gently guided his chin until he turned towards him. Isaac seemed surprised by his actions, but didn’t resist when Hector leaned closer and kissed him on the mouth. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Isaac’s lips moving softly against his own. Isaac was gifted with irresistibly plump lips that made Hector want to sink his teeth into them. However, he doubted that Isaac would like that, so when he nipped Isaac’s lower lip, he did so tentatively and flicked his tongue to smooth over the graze. It was the kind of tease that Lenore would have enjoyed.

A bitten off moan escaped Isaac’s throat, letting Hector know that the other man wasn’t opposed to the treatment. Growing bolder, he cupped Isaac’s jaw more firmly and tilted his head to the side, seeking to deepen the contact, but instead of giving in Isaac nudged him back and pulled away from the kiss.

“If we keep this up we’ll never get out of this forest,” Isaac cautioned.

“What’s the hurry,” Hector grouched, frustrated and confused by Isaac’s behaviour.

“Since we can't be that far away from the river-crossing, we might chance on some mushroom-pickers or hunters,” Isaac continued. “In these parts it’s best for two men not to be spotted kissing, unless we want to get in trouble with the church.”

With those words, Isaac got up and dusted himself, leaving Hector sitting on the ground by himself. He tried not to linger on it, but Isaac’s rejection hurt and made him feel like he was doing something wrong.

“If you’re getting restless we could do something more useful,” Isaac offered, picking up Hector’s discarded sword belt and tossing it to him.

Hector barely caught the sword before nearly it hit him in the face.

“You want us to train now,” he blinked at his partner, wary of the sudden change in mood.

“No better way to work out excessive energy,” Isaac assured him. “Come on! You could use the practice.”

His friend beckoned and walked off in search of suitable ground. With a heavy sigh, Hector pushed himself up and followed the other forgemaster. He wasn’t in any mood to learn or practice nor did he need to work out excessive energy - their forest trek was more than enough to tire him out. All he wanted was for Isaac to stop teasing him and either give in to their mutual need, or stop pretending that he was going to, because the mixed signals were driving Hector mad.

“How long exactly do I have to… wait,” he asked when he approached his sparring partner, “ - for what we talked about yesterday.”

Isaac was waiting for him in a small sunlit clearing. It was like a scene from a painting - the grass was tall, full of little flowers, the air was fragrant and warm and the dappled light that filtered through the trees danced over him in a way that painted the entire scene with an air of playfulness.

“You better focus on the fight,” Isaac lectured him and attacked before Hector was ready to deflect.

Instincts kicked in and Hector skidded sideways, avoiding Isaac’s dagger by the breadth of a hair. He managed to raise his sword and crossed it with the next attack, pushing Isaac a few steps back.

“I don’t feel like doing this,” Hector growled, but Isaac ignored his complaining. A quick dash on his part and Hector’s sword went flying out of his slack grasp.

The silver-haired man didn’t even bother trying to regain his bearings as he was driven back and pushed against a tree. He surrendered, leaning bonelessly against the trunk as the tip of Isaac’s dagger tapped his throat.

“And you’re dead,” Isaac raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Is that really all you got, Hector?”

Hector’s eyes darted down to Isaac’s low neckline. His sparring partner had undone the top buttons of his coat, leaving the smooth planes of his brown chest exposed.

“If I was assaulting you right now, what would you do,” Isaac demanded, pointedly ignoring Hector’s unapologetic staring.

“Offer you my body,” Hector deadpanned and Isaac looked put off for a moment before he started to laugh and stepped away, increasing the distance between them.

“You really don’t give up easily, do you? Fine, let’s say your attacker thought that was funny and gave you another chance to defend yourself,” Isaac traced the blade against his own chin before his voice turned grave. “Now pick up your sword and let’s try this again!”

Perhaps Isaac thought that his tone would cow him, but Hector noticed the genuine spark of amusement in Isaac’s eyes, just before it was hidden. In his brief, but educational time with Lenore, Hector had become an expert at looking for signals of what was expected of him, versus what was being said. So, knowing that Isaac was only pretending to be mad, he smiled sheepishly and tilted his head to the side, revealing more of his neck in a display of submission. Confirming his earlier guess, Isaac’s eyes widened when Hector’s fingers hooked on the buttons of his own shirt and began popping them one after the other. Isaac sucked in a sharp breath as his chest was slowly revealed and the cool breeze rustled the flaps of his collar.

“Hector,” Isaac sighed and maybe it was meant to be a warning, but hearing his name in that breathless tone did nothing to dissuade him. If anything, Hector’s hands started working even faster, getting halfway down his torso before Isaac grabbed one of his wrists to stop him from undressing further.

“Fine, let’s make a deal,” Isaac bargained crossly. “If you can win against me, I’ll let you have what you want. But if you lose, you will wait for as long as I decide and will stop trying to seduce me. Do we have a deal?”

Hector raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but nodded his consent eagerly. Of course, the deal was unfair, because he lacked the training and experience to win against Isaac - it was most likely what his friend counted on when he offered such a compromise. However, Hector’s greatest advantage was the way people often underestimated him. He had no doubt that Isaac didn’t think he stood a chance, and getting cocky about his combat superiority was exactly what was going to cost him.

Suppressing a self-contented smile, Hector shambled over to where his sword had fallen in the grass, purposefully making his movements clumsier as he hefted it up. Isaac was giving him his back, posture relaxed as if he didn’t perceive Hector as a thread, while he waited for his opponent to attack. Hector didn’t keep him waiting.

Charging recklessly in Isaac’s direction, Hector let out a yell to further alert the other man of his approach. Like clockwork, Isaac swirled around, blocking Hector’s attacking blade and sending it flying out of his grasp. It was exactly what Hector had hoped for, since he had never meant to succeed with that move. His real attack came with a surprise kick to Isaac’s shin, which sent the other forgemaster toppling to the ground. All Hector had to do was pounce on him and pull his arms behind his back to restrain him.

“Unbelievable,” Isaac choked out a startled laugh as he tested Hector’s grip on him and found himself immobilized. “Did you merely pretend to be completely hopeless, just so you could surprise me when it suited you the most?”

“Just this one time. Although I have a feeling you let me win on purpose,” Hector teased in return, leaning down to whisper in Isaac’s ear.

Isaac grumbled as Hector disarmed him, tossing the dagger away before rolling Isaac on his back, so that they could face each other.

“So,” Hector prompted with a triumphant grin.

“I surrender. Claim your spoils,” Isaac answered nonchalantly.

Hector looked him over, noticing the tense look that creased his face. Perhaps Isaac was nervous, and so was Hector - he didn’t have any experience with men. So even though he was fairly certain that he knew what Isaac would like, he decided that it was best to ask.

“I’d like to - ” Hector paused, trying to find a less crude way to say that he wanted to suck Isaac’s cock until he came, “- make you feel good. With my mouth. Is that alright?”

Isaac’s scowl deepened. He propped himself up to his elbows and for a moment Hector worried that his friend would try to run away, but Isaac only nodded in consent.

Breathing out an unsteady sigh of relief, Hector began undoing the small buttons of Isaac’s coat. His fingers trembled a little as he revealed more and more of Isaac’s silky skin. The sinewy muscles of Isaac’s abdomen rose and fell in a quickened rhythm as Hector pulled the coat aside and uncovered the lean contours of Isaac’s torso. He marveled at the fine bones of Isaac’s rib-cage poking out, and the graceful angles of his clavicles, decorated with geometric patterns embedded with black ink.

Isaac’s breathing sped up when Hector’s eyes dipped down to his narrow hips and the waistband of his trousers, which hugged them snugly. Something about the hitch of his breath worried Hector, so he lifted his gaze back to the other man’s face and waited for a confirmation. Isaac seemed tense, even if he remained calm and immobile, surrendering himself just as he had promised he would.

“You don’t look very comfortable,” Hector prodded, remembering that Isaac had admitted to having been on the receiving end of abuse.

His friend wet his lips and sat up fully, knees bending up to cage Hector between them.

“I’d rather not lie down on my back,” Isaac confessed and Hector nodded in understanding. He had enjoyed the sensual sight Isaac made, stretched out on the grass, but he could fully understand how vulnerable it must have made him feel.

“I’m glad you told me,” Hector said, lowering himself on his front between Isaac’s parted legs. “Tell me if I do anything else that you don’t like. I want you to enjoy this.”

“And what about your own enjoyment,” Isaac sounded a little flustered. “Stop trying to please me!”

Hector blinked in confusion until suddenly he realized Isaac’s problem and smiled in understanding. It was actually really sweet.

“You’re worried that I’m not enjoying this,” he chuckled, imagining just how arousing it was going to be to see and hear Isaac get off. “Believe me, it’s the opposite.”

Isaac looked suspicious, and Hector wished he could somehow explain how handsome Isaac was and how rewarding it was going to be to see him at the peak of pleasure.

“It’s actually very nice of you to consider what I’m getting out of this,” Hector added after a moment of contemplation, realizing that Lenore had never cared about him like that. “But you shouldn’t worry.”

He pulled Isaac’s legs closer around himself and pressed kisses through the fabric of his trousers. From there he kissed his way over the expanse of Isaac’s long leg and up his hip until he was finally met with the exposed skin of his lower abdomen. With his tongue he traced the indent between Isaac’s stomach muscles, licking the line that led down from Isaac’s navel. He heard Isaac gasp, his body straining under Hector’s tongue and lips. Hector found the taste of salt on the other man’s body irresistible and continued to litter open-mouthed kisses around Isaac’s navel, worshipping every inch of him.

Before long, Isaac was biting off moans and twisting, making the sweet smell of crushed greens fill the air. Hector tentatively stroked down Isaac’s crotch and felt the tell-tale hardness under his palm. He had never touched another man like that - never thought he’d want to - but feeling Isaac’s arousal excited him. The way Isaac’s breath shortened from the contact made Hector’s gut clench and a shudder travel down his spine.

With a muttered curse and the man’s name on his lips, Hector leaned further down to lick the skin just above the waistband. A hand shot up and snatched him by the hair, which seemed to become a habit for Isaac, whenever he wanted to get a good grip on him. And what’s worse, Hector was starting to like it a little too much.

He massaged Isaac’s crotch a little harder, and the hand in his hair tightened in response. Shivers crawled down Hector’s spine starting from where he felt the pull on his scalp. He couldn’t help but smirk as he closed his palm over the contour of the other man’s cock, seeing it outlined against the rough fabric that covered it.

Isaac clasped his chin and Hector felt the faint tremor in the other man’s fingers before his head was tilted up and he was pulled closer to Isaac, who leaned down to kiss him deeply. Hector wrapped one of his arms around Isaac’s back to hold him close, while he kept ceaselessly teasing him through his clothing. Isaac’s tongue thrust between Hector’s lips and he accepted it, eyes squeezing shut.

His fingers fumbled in their frenzy to undo Isaac’s trousers, and his heart pounded in his ears when he finally snuck them under to feel for his price. He was met with hot, sweat-damp skin and finally the fullness of Isaac’s shaft, which he pulled out and immediately wrapped his hand around to pleasure him with slow strokes.

Isaac gasped his name into the kiss and it ignited Hector’s blood, making his own hardness strain under his weight. He broke the kiss and lowered his head down between Isaac’s raised knees, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to flick his tongue against the head without hesitation. Even though he had never done it before, he knew what was expected, so upon finding the taste and scent not only acceptable but even arousing, he opened his mouth and tried to take as much of Isaac as he could.

Isaac’s hand dragged through his hair soothingly, rubbing small circles on his scalp that told Hector that he was doing well, growing more confident, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. His efforts elicited small sighs from his partner, but the grip in his hair tightened again and he felt Isaac pulling him back up.

“Slowly,” Isaac whispered and relaxed his hold on his hair. “It’s been a while -”

Hector hummed in understanding and tried to slow down, giving Isaac a few soothing licks before swallowing him down once more. This time he was careful not to suck too hard or move too fast, instead he bobbed his head up and down and let his lips caress the hard flesh between them with all the tenderness he felt for Isaac. The man in question shuddered and relaxed, knees falling to the sides and head lolling back. Hector started moving the hand that gripped the base of Isaac’s erection, stroking up and down, while his mouth caressed the sensitive crown. Isaac’s breathing sped up again and his thighs came up to lock around Hector’s shoulders, squeezing him a little, letting him know that he was on the right track.

“That’s enough,” Isaac ordered, voice coming out wrecked, “I’m close enough to finish now.”

His pull on Hector’s hair was insistent and the ashen-haired man let him drag him back.

“Are you sure,” he frowned. “I’d be happy to -”

“No.”

How Isaac managed to sound commanding even in moments like that was beyond Hector’s understanding, but he allowed himself to be pushed back. He watched in fascination as Isaac covered his lips with one hand and took himself with the other, going over the edge with a few quick strokes and trapping the spray of seed in his fist. He barely made a sound as he came, which was a shame, since Hector had hoped to see him come undone. He tried to hide his disappointment.

As Isaac wiped his hand in the grass and righted himself, Hector sat back on his knees and averted his eyes, giving his friend a measure of privacy. His own blood was still thumping in his ears and his cock was hard, but he wasn’t certain what he should do about it. He regretted not taking himself in hand while his mouth was still working on Isaac, which would have been the best time to get himself off. Currently, Isaac was getting up and walking away, making Hector deflate.

“Come here,” Isaac called and Hector looked up in surprise. Isaac was sitting with his back against the trunk of a wide tree, beckoning for Hector to approach.

Standing up on shaky legs, Hector eyed him wearily. Isaac patted his lap.

“Sit here,” he prompted, making Hector raise an eyebrow. As he tried to sit, he was all but pulled in Isaac’s lap and then the other man wrapped his arms around his chest, pulling him back until they were flush against each other.

“What are you doing,” Hector huffed breathlessly. Isaac’s hand snuck under his unbuttoned shirt, lightly squeezing a nipple. Hector dug his heels into the ground and gasped. Suddenly he understood and his softening cock bounced to hardness in his pants. Isaac’s hand continued to roam the skin under his shirt, while the other one fell to his belt, just clasping over the buckle. The proximity to the place where Hector wanted to be touched the most was enough to drive him mad with the implication.

“Is this alright? Is this what you want,” Isaac whispered hotly in his ear and Hector arched against him in sheer ecstasy.

“Yes,” he cried out.

He leaned his back against Isaac’s chest and looked down to watch him undo his belt. Isaac’s chin rested firmly on his shoulder and Hector shuddered at the warm feel of the other man’s breath against his sweat damp skin.

Isaac unlaced his trousers’ front and dragged his fingers underneath the fabric to caress his lower belly. Hector couldn’t hold still, his spine was arching on its own, stuck between the need to grind forward and pull away from the intensity of the sensation. His partner’s movements were careful and patient, exploring the area just below his navel, without going further to grip his cock. A small part of Hector was still a little apprehensive to let Isaac touch him where he was most vulnerable. He was aroused to the point of staining his small clothes with precum, but the thought of someone else handling his manhood unnerved him. Too many times had Lenore punished him by cruelly pinching or slapping him there, finding nothing funnier than the way a boy could howl, as she had artfully put it.

As if sensing his agitation, Isaac turned his face and pressed his mouth to his throat, making Hector melt from the sensation. Those wondrous lips worked their way up to Hector’s jaw and the ashen-haired man chased after them until Isaac gave him the kiss that he needed. Isaac’s tongue prodded for entry and gladly, Hector let him inside his mouth, moaning wantonly as Isaac thoroughly explored him. Isaac’s taste was nothing like the vampiress - Lenore had tasted of heavy wine, stifling perfume and decay. Perhaps at first he had thought that Lenore’s taste was a mixture of something heady. It had been quick to intoxicate him and pull him under, but all that followed was the feeling of drowning.

With Isaac he tasted nothing like that. Isaac tasted vigorous and sweet, like life itself. He offered him something real and tangible, something good and healthy. He smelled like the grass that they had rolled on and the exertion of exercise. His arms around Hector’s body made him feel secure and cared for, without stifling him or trying to subdue him.

In a surge of boldness, Hector clasped Isaac’s hand and guided it lower, urging him to take control of his pleasure.

“Are you ready,” Isaac breathed against his lips.

“Yes. Yes, please,” Hector whispered, shutting his eyes tightly, too overwhelmed to look and see what Isaac was about to do.

He felt the incredible warmth of Isaac’s hand as it closed around him. Isaac was careful. His touches slow and tentative as he let Hector adjust to the feeling of being caressed so intimately. Then his thumb traced a circle over the slit of Hector’s cock, smearing the gathered precum and he slowly dragged back the foreskin, revealing the sensitive head. Hector bit off a small yell of excitement and threw his head back to rest against the other man’s shoulder.

He didn’t dare to look as Isaac spread the moisture over the rest of him and slowly began to pump his length. Hector’s hips rolled in time with Isaac’s hand, gradually picking up the pace, until his partner wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him still. Hector groaned in protest and whispered Isaac’s name as a plea and Isaac quickened the speed, gripping Hector’s cock a little tighter and increasing the stimulation.

“Yes, more,” Hector begged breathlessly and Isaac’s knees rose up, pushing his thighs apart so that he could fit his other hand in as well. Hector keened when Isaac cupped his sack, holding it gently while still speeding the pace up. Mouthing curses, Hector arched further into Isaac’s touch, his legs straining to the sides as Isaac’s knees spread them even further. He was frantically searching for purchase as his orgasm quickly approached.

The only thing he could grasp was Isaac, squeezing hard enough to bruise. His desperation had him twisting in the embrace, scrambling until he managed to claim Isaac’s mouth with a harsh kiss, trying to find enough satisfaction that could take off the edge.

The slide of Isaac’s tongue against his, only increased the euphoric feeling of being wanted. It built up abruptly and reached the tipping point of what Hector’s body could endure. His whole world squeezed to a needlepoint of pleasure and for a blinding moment he lost the ability to think or to consciously command his movements. He heard himself lose control of his voice, only to muffle his sounds behind Isaac’s skin as he bit right beneath the other man’s jaw and continued to scream between his teeth. Isaac didn’t pause its movements until he was milked to the very last drop of seed and he sagged in a boneless mess against him.

Hector leaned back his head on Isaac’s shoulder and breathed deeply, trying to fill up his burning lungs. He had never been so wrecked in his life - his body was exhausted by the extreme high, his limbs felt heavy and useless, as if his bones had turned into gelatin. His heart pounded so quickly in his chest that it threatened to burst. But the pleasure he felt more than made up for all of that, and one thing he knew for sure was that he was already addicted and ensnared. If Isaac wanted to, he could ask for anything and Hector would do it without question, if it meant he could feel this way again.

Turning his tired gaze to Isaac, Hector noticed the purpling bite mark on his friend’s jaw. Horrified and cursing, Hector turned to see his friend better.

“I am so sorry! I’ve hurt you,” he pleaded, horrified by what he had done. Isaac raised an eyebrow and rubbed the mark on his skin thoughtfully.

“It’s barely a scratch,” he reassured him. “Although it’d be a little difficult to hide.”

“Are you sure you’re alright,” Hector asked, leaning forward to gently kiss around the bite mark, not daring to aggravate it further but wishing to let Isaac know just how sorry he was.

Isaac’s breath came as a hiss.

“I enjoy a little pain,” he offered warily. “If it’s delivered in a certain way.”

Realization made Hector hold his breath in excitement before he lapped over the teeth marks, a move that had Isaac’s breath quickening. Hector’s chin was grasped once again and Isaac turned his head up to kiss him deeply on the mouth. It was a most satisfying way to appease Hector’s worries.

...

After a short while of simply relaxing against the tree and gathering their bearings once again for the long trek ahead, the two forgemasters finally got up and collected their discarded weapons.

“I enjoyed this training session,” Hector winked at Isaac.

“I noticed,” Isaac wasn’t even trying to hide his smile this time. It made Hector’s heart swell in his chest.

“Maybe we can do this again soon - as you said, I need to practice.”

“Naturally,” Isaac reassured him and Hector didn’t think he’d ever felt happier.

…  
…  
…

Isaac hadn’t expected that the crow that Hector befriended, would follow them out of the wilderness, but Icarus tagged along and was nearly constantly perched on Hector’s shoulder or circling above their heads. Hector began teaching the bird tricks and commands and it took to the training with an intelligence that often surprised him. A third mouth to feed meant that the forgemasters needed to restock their dried meat supplies, amongst many other things, and in the following days they looked for isolated farms to make a discreet stop and attempt to trade with the locals.

Both Hector and Isaac carried coins and treasures from the loot at the Magician’s tower, but the frightened peasants of Styria, no matter how poor, proved to be inhospitable and closed their doors even to the rich outsiders. The only remaining choice was to try at a larger settlement - the kind of place that Isaac had wanted to avoid at all costs. Revealing their true nature was a risk they couldn’t afford to take. Necromancers were feared and hunted by the church, and Forgemasters even more so. If anyone caught a whiff of what they were, they were going to be subjected to persecution and a very unpleasant death.

The only positive thing about having lost their powers was that the magic, which usually hung heavy in the air around practitioners, was almost undetectable in their current state, so they were mostly safe. But that wasn’t the only secret that Isaac worried about being discovered.

When he was distracted, he often caught himself rubbing the fading bruise below his jawline, with which Hector had marked him some days prior. The memory of their little tumble was sweet enough to elicit a tiny smile from him, but it also brought the feeling of dread. Homosexuality was punishable in these parts, and as two obviously unrelated men travelling together, they had to be extra vigilant not to get noticed. Hector knew that as well, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t exchanged any acts of intimacy in the openness of the road.

...

In the end, they decided to make a stop for supplies at a larger town with fortified walls, which rested on the top of a small hill. Behind it, the dark silhouette of tall mountains loomed against the horizon. Winds carried the cold from the perpetual winter that reigned over their frozen heights. Somewhere amongst those peaks was their ultimate destination - the forgotten abbey, which hid the artefact they were after.

The roads that lead to the settlement were wide, as if the town was used to seeing more traffic than it currently enjoyed. But there were very few travellers, mainly locals and farmers, with the occasional merchant trotting or riding along the packed dirt. There was never anybody after dark. Instead, wherever they went, the forgemasters overheard rumours about vampires and night creatures terrorising that previously peaceful land.

Isaac knew that much of the peasants’ misfortunes could be linked directly to their own actions. After he had seen to the destruction of Carmilla’s castle, all those vampires that had previously resided there must have fled into the nearby lands. Also the remains of Isaac’s army of night creatures must have scattered to all the directions of the wind as well, becoming yet another lynch on the land.

All the more reasons to keep their heads down - with the threat of the supernatural abound, the church tended to get bolder in their search for scapegoats. So anyone out of the ordinary was at risk and for their own safety, the two forgemasters kept their hoods low and their faces hidden.

Isaac only hoped that they would be able to make a quick stop, restock their supplies and be on their way before any trouble stirred up in that town.

...


	8. Leaving the Past Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unpleasant bits of the past get left behind as Isaac and Hector get ever closer to their goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Moonstonemama for pushing me through this chapter and the various blocks I had while writing it! I hope you will enjoy this, despite the delay :D Also, if you haven't already, go check out her new forge husbands fic Entwined!!! It's good stuff!!!

The guards at the gate stopped them before they managed to enter the walled-off town. Isaac hoped that it was because there were not many travellers and the soldiers were bored enough to want to do their jobs. However it turned out that the guards just had to be asinine and interrogate Isaac in particular, about the business of a foreigner in their community. 

Isaac noticed the way Hector went pale with rage. Isaac wouldn’t have tolerated the rudeness of those goons either, but he knew that such men would rise at the smallest provocation. Without the protection of the night creatures, defending his pride was not worth the risk of getting riddled with arrows. No one was going to miss a couple of foreigners. So he shot Hector a warning look and plastered his most polite expression before addressing the guards.

“We are vampire killers,” Isaac proclaimed when it became clear that there was no other way to get access to the town without telling lies. “We heard that you’ve been having some problems.”

“Aye ‘tis true, but who hired you,” one of the soldiers argued, eyeing them critically. 

“We travel where there’s work,” Isaac gestured to Hector and himself. They were both taller and more impressively built than most of the locals. Their clothes and weapons were of better quality than the ones carried by the guards. Men like them could easily pass for mercenaries.

“If we don’t get hired here, we’ll be on our way by tomorrow morning.”

“What’s up with the crow,” the other guard, who was missing a couple of his front teeth pointed at Icarus. The crow was riding perched on Hector’s shoulder.

“My trained bird helps us find rats and other carriers of pestilence,” Hector rubbed the crow’s cheek and the bird closed its eyes in delight.

“Rats don’t carry pestilence, bad smells do,” a third guard argued from the back and Isaac resisted the urge to take out his dagger and rid the world of the man’s stupidity. 

“The crow... also has an excellent sense of smell,” Hector added slowly, sounding as if he was choking with disdain, but making an effort to hide it.

“Well, I suppose we could let you in… if you’re on your way by tomorrow,” the one in charge scratched his greying beard. “Folk don’t like your kind here.”

Isaac had the distinct impression that the guard didn’t mean vampire hunters.

“We certainly will be, with or without a contract,” Isaac assured him. 

“Very well then,” the soldiers finally moved out of the way. “But just so you know, you’re not the first hunters to come to town. Another pair of adventurers already took the vampire contract. Not sure what happened to them though - they haven’t come back. Probably dead by now.”

The forgemasters offered stiff nods and crossed the gate to enter the rundown little town beyond it. Isaac barely contained his derision. So much effort just to step foot into another one of western civilization’s shitholes. 

The town boasted a small cathedral with a single spire, which cast its shadow over a market square. There amongst barred shops with dark windows, narrow alleys dotted the rolls of buildings and stunk strongly of human waste. Barely any shoppers walked amongst the stalls, which were either empty or sold old, rotting produce. The only things the town didn’t lack were armoured guards in distastefully patterned doublets, and priests robed in false modesty, who paraded about with sour faces. 

The supplies they needed were likely to be found at an inn, so the forgemasters set a brisk pace through the cobbled streets in search of one. Thankfully it was right where one’d expect it to be, and they made directly for its red-painted front door. 

This particular establishment was suspiciously too dark and too hushed. There was no music or ruckus coming from inside that one would expect from an inn. Either the town had suffered too much from the attacks, or something was definitely not right with the place.

“You know what to do,” Hector said to Icarus and the crow croaked and flew away. Isaac gazed after the bird as it disappeared behind the inn. He raised an eyebrow in question, but his companion only shrugged and Isaac decided to let it go.

The inside of the building smelled strongly of stale beer, unwashed villagers and smoke, but there were barely any patrons. Most of the seats were empty, with just a few drunken farmers, the odd knight and a merchant, occupying a few tables.

Regardless, Isaac and Hector kept their hoods drawn over their heads to avoid attracting attention. They made their way over the worn floorboards to the bar where a barkeep was polishing tankards with determination. 

“What would it be, gentlemen,” the portly man turned to them with a large grin stretching his fleshy cheeks. Upon seeing Isaac’s dark skin, the bulky man quickly averted his eyes and made it a point to address only Hector, as if Isaac had suddenly turned invisible. 

That pointed dismissal was neither new nor unexpected, but it still grated on the forgemaster’s nerves when people treated him so poorly. It reminded him once more why the world would be better off without humans. He kept quiet as Hector reluctantly took over the conversation.

“Do you have rooms,” his friend asked gruffly. 

“We may have,” the barkeep eyed Hector suspiciously and pointed in Isaac’s direction without averting his eyes, “But he can’t stay in them.”

“What do you mean,” Hector’s tone was so cold, it could have frozen the man’s moustache. However, it did little to intimidate the barkeep. As if sensing Hector’s lack of experience in bargaining, he crossed his fat arms over the stained apron and stood his ground.

“He can sleep in the stables with the animals,” he concluded with an air of authority. “We don’t house his kind here.”

“Then we’ll find another accomodation,” Hector hissed and in unison the forgemasters turned to leave. 

Isaac secretly let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. Just when he had gotten his hopes up for a warm meal and a comfortable bed, they were turned out for another night of sleeping on the dirt by the road. 

They were almost at the door when the barman chased after them. Isaac’s lips thinned in derision when he noticed that the man was already out of breath.

“Wait, wait! You won’t find another place to stay,” he said, holding his pot belly to support its wide girth. “And it’s unsafe to travel during the night in these parts. You might have heard - we’ve been terrorized by vampires and demons as of late. It’s bad for business and…”

Isaac stole a glance at Hector, who had raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in the universal get-to-the-point gesture. The coldness of his blue eyes sent sparks of excitement over Isaac’s spine. The barkeep probably didn’t feel the same way, and he started to stutter as Hector regarded him as if he was a fly that he intended to squish.

“Well… we happen to have a few spare rooms, if you have the coin to pay,” he smoothed his apron nervously, as if he was only now noticing that they were both taller than him, armed and unamused. 

Isaac took out his coin purse, holding it tightly in his fist to demonstrate that they did indeed have money. The barkeep glanced at him briefly before his eyes turned once again to Hector, from where they darted to his feet. “I suppose for tonight… I could make an exception.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Isaac answered insincerely, enjoying the way the barman tried and failed to ignore him, because his eyes kept straying from the floor to the pouch in Isaac’s hand.

“Third floor - last room. Just don’t let the other patrons see you when you go up,” the barkeep mumbled as he offered them a key. “For your own good.”

…

The forgemasters hefted up their bags and climbed up the creaking staircase to the third floor. Hector unlocked the last door on the narrow corridor, while Isaac waited, eager to rest his tired legs and feet. Unfortunately they were greeted with a poor sight - a shabby little attic with a stooped roof and a heap of dry hay instead of an actual bed. 

Cursing under his breath, Isaac kicked off the flea-infested blankets that had been thrown over it and discovered that the straw at least looked fresh and bug-free enough to sleep on. There was no other furniture in the room, except for an oil lamp and a very small window. Hector unlatched it and left it open to air out the staleness.

Deciding that they better wait in the bar, the forgemasters left their belongings in the room, taking the weapons and valuables along before locking the door again and descended down the stairs.

...

A little later as they waited for a bath to be drawn and a meal to be prepared for them, Isaac and Hector sat on an isolated table away from the rest of the people and the light. Hector dealt with the serving girl, who was fetched to prepare their supplies order. The woman was barely more than a child and it disturbed Isaac that it didn’t stop her from trying to flirt with Hector. Not that Hector reacted in any way except by looking mildly off-put.

Once left alone, the two men sat in relatively peaceful silence, observing the other patrons warily. Isaac drank water for a lack of a better alternative, and Hector had cider, which he claimed to trust more than the purity of the water in that establishment. Isaac didn’t miss the dirty looks the barkeep was still giving him. He hoped that having a non alcoholic drink wasn’t enough to be labeled a heretic and to cause trouble for them.

Suddenly the door burst open and in strode a couple so distinct that Isaac could never forget them. The man was tall, broad of shoulder and slim of waist. His dark locks had grown long into his piercing blue eyes, one of which was marked by a long scar that travelled from the middle of his brow to his cheek. Upon his belt he carried a formidable metallic whip, and the Belmont crest was embroidered on the back of his coat. Beside him walked a petite woman in blue Speaker’s robes, with ginger hair cropped short. Her lively blue eyes darted around inquisitively and her steps were light, full of self-assurance. Upon entering the inn she smiled as if she owned the place and she didn’t mind the way all the male gazes were turned on her as soon as she appeared. Isaac had no doubt that no man there was a threat to her.

Seeing these two, Isaac’s heart dropped all the way to his gut and cold sweat broke over his neck. He looked to Hector, who watched the duo curiously, having never seen them before, and probably having not figured out yet that these were the two humans, who had helped Adrian kill Dracula. 

“We need to get out of here,” Isaac whispered discreetly, not tearing his eyes away from the Belmont, who made his way directly to the bar.

“Why?”

“Drinks please,” the Speaker called for the barkeep, while the Hunter slapped his fist on the board in impatience.

“Can’t you see these are-” Isaac began to explain, but was interrupted when the ginger woman hopped on a stool and turned to face the few gathered patrons with confidence and clarity of voice reminiscent of performers.

“Just so you good people know, we’ve gotten rid of your vampire problem,” she beamed a bright smile and recited: “Belnades and Belmont victorious again!”

Hector choked on his drink upon hearing the names, only then realizing the amount of danger they were in. The two forgemasters exchanged panicked looks. 

“We can’t leave our things,” Hector whispered. “We must go upstairs and take our bags.”

“I don’t think they saw me at the castle, but there’s a chance,” Isaac argued, pulling his hood further down his head. “We better go immediately.”

“You don’t have to worry about the vampire Lenore ever again - we staked her,” Belnades continued loudly from her perch on the chair. Upon hearing the words Hector’s head snapped in her direction with a single-minded focus, all fear gone from his face. “I could tell the story, if anyone wishes to hear.”

“Don’t,” Isaac whispered, guessing what his friend was thinking, but it was too late and he knew it.

“I’d like to hear it,” Hector got up and Isaac lowered his head to hide his face. He uttered silent prayers that the Hunter and the Speaker wouldn’t sense the dormant necromantic magic in Hector as his idiot friend approached their sworn enemies.

“Oh hi,” Belnades waved to Hector. “Well, good sir, you see, we’d gladly tell the tale, but…”

She tapped her two index fingers together, looking away with mischief in her eyes.

“... we happen to be very hungry after our adventures -”

Belmont cleared his throat noisily.

“- And thirsty! Very thirsty, of course! So, if you don’t mind…”

It took a small moment for Hector to realize that he was being unapologetically extorted to pay their bill.

“On me,” Hector agreed quietly and waved to the barkeep. The man was quick to take the order for food and fetch the Hunter and the Speaker two frothing tankards of beer, bringing an extra one for Hector without being asked.

“Why, thank you,” the ginger smiled sweetly and the Belmont grunted and nodded his thanks as well.

“I would like to hear your story,” Isaac heard Hector saying as he sat down on the bar next to the woman. The Belmont snatched his beer before anyone else could reach a hand. Isaac watched with mild disgust as the man drank like a thirsty camel. In the meantime the woman toasted Hector, who looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t seem to notice. Belnades had a sip and turned to Hector to begin her long and descriptive story.

...

The tale took a while to tell with the Speaker going into details, hand gesticulating, doing voice interpretations and leaving many dramatic pauses and exclamations. Hector was clearly a little buzzed by his second alcoholic beverage for the night, because he was silently emoting in reaction to her retelling of how they had tracked down the vampire to an abandoned mill. Then Belnades went into more excruciating details about how they had defeated the vampire soldiers, who had guarded their elite vampire mistress. 

While listening to the story from across the bar, Isaac also learned that Belmont’s given name was Trevor, and the Speaker was called Sypha. Hector had given the name Thanatos for himself and Iften for Isaac. 

As the Speaker was explaining how they had actually met and conversed with Lenore before reinforcing their decision to kill her, the serving girl came out with their dinner.

“Put everything here,” Sypha commanded and the young woman placed Isaac’s portion beside Hector, winking at him before skipping away childishly. Hector didn’t even notice, but Sypha chuckled behind her delicate hand.

Fighting down his extreme annoyance Isaac approached the bar, realizing that he was going to be forced to share a meal with Dracula’s murderers.

“Ah, finally we meet the elusive friend Iften,” Sypha grinned and stared at Isaac as he pointedly ignored her while taking the chair on Hector’s far side.

Hector smiled and wrapped his arm around Isaac’s back with drunken fondness before promptly releasing him. Isaac was glad for it, because it would serve neither of them well if someone suspected them to be more than just friends.

“So nice to meet you, Iften,” Sypha continued. “I haven’t seen many travellers from Africa in recent years. Tell me, have the locals been kind to you? Any news that you could share?”

“I have been away from my country of birth for many years,” Isaac answered cryptically. “I’m afraid I have no stories to tell you, but I’ll gladly hear the end of yours.”

“That’s a shame,” Belnades seemed genuinely disappointed. “My clan used to exchange tales with Berber merchants. I miss those days. The tales of camels and crocodiles, and the dessert - why, I’d love to see such wonders for myself!”

“You probably won’t like the desert or the crocodiles once you see them up close,” Isaac chuckled at the woman’s enthusiasm. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sypha laughed and Isaac noticed the soft, enamoured look Belmont sent her. It made him uncomfortable, as if he had witnessed something too intimate, so he looked away. 

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know,” she sighed. “So, as I was saying, Trevor got the Morning Star out and you could just see the vampire’s eyes go wide! She knew that one touch from the consecrated weapon would mean her death! And just as my clever sidekick was about to work his art and smite her - paf! - she turned into a cloud of bats and they started swarming us, biting and scratching out our eyes! For a minute, all I could see was their white color flitting about and I thought I’ll go blind!”

“Fuck,” Hector cursed under his breath and lowered his eyes. 

Isaac turned to his steaming bowl of lentil soup and dipped inside the corner of the hard loaf that had come with it. He ate and listened to Sypha explain how her magic had forced the vampire to turn back into her true form and then proceeded to describe the chase when Lenore had attempted to flee.

More than anything he wished that he could freely take Hector’s hand in his and squeeze it. His friend got more and more agitated as he listened to the Speaker’s tale. Perhaps the quickened breath and the slight tremors of Hector’s shoulders could pass for excitement, but Isaac knew better. 

“Can you skip over the gore and just tell us that she’s dead, so we can all get some rest,” he urged the Speaker to finish her story.

“Why? Your friend likes my story and he hasn’t even finished his dinner yet,” Sypha gestured to Hector’s untouched meal.

“I believe your tale is ruining his appetite,” Isaac argued.

“Maybe you should let the guy speak for himself,” Trevor intervened. He had been quiet the entire time, and Isaac had assumed that he was too busy searching for truth at the bottom of his cups to listen to them talk. 

“I want to know the story,” Hector said and Isaac nodded in understanding.

“Very well, but I have heard enough,” he said, getting up from the chair. Even if Hector wanted to do this to himself, Isaac didn’t have to be there to watch it. “I’m going to go take my bath.”

…

The bathing chamber was located on the basement floor and was nothing more than a cellar crammed with four sit-in wooden tubs, each of which could hold a few people at the same time. The air was moist and warmed from the stove that was primarily used for heating up water. Scant lighting came from several rusty old lamps hanging upon unpainted walls. There were no other patrons and Isaac felt grateful that at least he could wash in privacy.

A single tub had been prepared for the two of them, but the hot water appeared to be barely steaming. 

“This inn has the worst service,” Isaac grumbled to himself after he tested the water and found it tepid. At least the contents looked clean and there were fresh-looking towels and a bar of lye soap placed on the narrow tray, which traversed the middle of the tub.

Isaac placed his weapon on the tray and hurried to get out of his travel clothes before the water cooled even more. Once he was sitting in the tub, submerged from the ribs up, he relished the opportunity to scrub himself from the grime of the road. Being clean, safe indoors and away from unfriendly gazes, felt so good that once he deemed himself sufficiently washed, the forgemaster relaxed his back against the wooden edge and closed his eyes for a few long minutes.

The creaking of footsteps down the staircase startled him alert and Isaac concealed his dagger under the water as he waited with his eyes on the door. It was only Hector, who looked dazed when he entered the bath chamber, spotted him and trotted over, unceremoniously beginning to strip.

“They killed Lenore. They showed me her necklace as proof,” his friend said, blue eyes very far away as he removed his shirt with mechanical movements.

“Are you glad that she’s dead, or do you regret not having the chance to kill her yourself,” Isaac asked, observing Hector’s actions from the corner of his eyes. 

“Both,” Hector admitted, sitting on the edge of the tub to take off his boots. Isaac was tempted to reach up and caress Hector’s back, but decided against it. 

“You realize that if they had recognized who we are, we’d be in deep trouble,” Isaac asked nonchalantly as his companion sunk into the tub opposite of him. The displaced water rose up nearly to the edge of the tub. 

Hector took the soap and scrubbed his chest with it. 

“Didn’t you say that Dracula pushed you through the distance mirror before you could confront them?”

“Yes, but Adrian saw me, and it’s mere luck that he hasn’t told his friends about me,” Isaac recalled.

“Do you still want revenge?” 

“Naturally. But without the night creatures we can’t defeat them. We should hunt them down when we’re ready.”

“I don’t think we should kill them,” Hector disagreed, surprising Isaac. “Dracula sought to die and he did. But also, I’m indebted to them for killing Lenore.”

“It was I who freed you from her,” Isaac argued, some unbecoming emotion that felt a bit too much like jealousy taking over him. “Shouldn’t you feel indebted to me instead?”

“Do you really want to do this,” Hector sounded unimpressed and Isaac closed his mouth, rethinking his previous words.

“Forgive me, that was wrong of me to say,” he conceded, feeling genuinely contrite, even as a small amount of doubt and hurt remained. “I hoped for your support if I ever needed it.”

“You have it, but if you take a step back from your anger to think, you might find that you don’t currently need it.”

Getting lectured by Hector was the last thing Isaac had expected that night. Usually his colleague was the naive one, but upon pondering for a long moment, Isaac realized the wisdom in Hector’s words. Revenge wasn’t necessary. It was something that he had set out to do when he had had nothing else left. Currently, he had more to live for than killing in the name of the one, who had ultimately discarded him. 

Isaac was glad that Hector didn’t seem to expect him to apologize profusely. Instead his friend proceeded to soap his hair and Isaac’s attention shifted to wishing that he could help him. Unfortunately anyone could walk into the semi-public space and it was unadvisable to be seen engaging in acts of intimacy. Suppressing his disappointment, Isaac took the pitcher, scooped up some water from the tub and poured it over Hector’s head.

“Thank you,” Hector murmured. His hair had turned a deeper grey from the water but his bright eyes sparkled as ever. He was finally snapping out of his stupor from finding out that his aggressor was dead, enough to take note of his current surroundings. 

Then Hector looked at him and Isaac saw the exact moment when Hector’s pupils dilated with yearning.

“Don’t,” he warned, shrinking back against the tub. “If we get caught, we’ll get lynched by a mob and burned at the stake for sodomy.”

“Can’t be that bad,” Hector frowned at the mental image, but didn’t seem nearly worried enough.

“Maybe it didn’t happen where you’re from, but in places like this the Church has a lot of power and the people are small-minded and hateful,” Isaac tried to explain. “At a time of misfortune, they would be especially happy to find a pair of scapegoats.”

“I understand,” Hector chewed his lower lip and eyed Isaac with consideration. “Let’s just hurry up and go upstairs then.”

“I imagine you’re getting ideas,” Isaac couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Your imagination is correct,” Hector laughed and Isaac couldn’t help feeling a little aroused by Hector's flirting.

“Better save it for upstairs,” he suggested, getting up and wrapping a towel around his middle. Hector was blatantly staring after him and let out a sad sound when Isaac didn’t give him a show. 

...

They dried up, redressed and gathered their belongings. The wooden stairs creaked under their boots as they went up to their room. Drunken voices from the bar permeated through the thin walls, but the second floor was quieter and appeared mostly unoccupied. The third was dark and completely silent.

A single oil lamp was lit beside their appointed door. Isaac had the key and was glad to see their baggage exactly as they had left it in the small room. 

Hector followed him inside and unceremoniously dropped his gear down. Isaac’s back was turned to him as he locked the door again and he nearly jumped out of his own skin when a pair of strong arms encircled him from behind. 

Instant relief that it was only Hector washed over him. Being pressed against a door and kissed on the neck was a different, but not unwelcome experience. He sighed, letting his friend do as he wanted for a brief moment and melting from the hot trail of kisses that Hector left down to his shoulder.

Isaac smiled slightly when he felt Hector slot their hips together. The slight thrust against his ass told him exactly how much he was wanted. A shudder ran down his spine when Hector’s hands trailed over his sides. He caressed Isaac’s arms until his baggage was taken and uncaringly tossed away. The heavy sack filled with various knicknacks crashed down noisily and from somewhere downstairs a disgruntled complaint passed muffled through the floorboards.

Isaac turned around and pressed his index finger over Hector’s mouth, shushing him. His friend’s ashen locks were still damp, raining droplets over Isaac’s hand and face when he cupped his cheek and kissed him. 

Without breaking the kiss, Isaac guided Hector back and pushed him down on the pile of straw.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet,” Isaac purred in Hector’s ear and his partner nodded readily.

Isaac’s elbows framed Hector’s shoulders and he leaned down to kiss him deeply. Eager as ever, Hector hooked his leg around Isaac’s knees and pulled him down. Silently demanding more, he rolled up his hips and cupped Isaac’s ass, grinding their stiffening lengths together. Urgency made Isaac’s hands rough as he loosened Hector’s belt, but the grey-haired man only encouraged him by squeezing and pinching him inbetween heavy gasps. Isaac wrapped his hand around Hector’s erection and a groan tore from the other forgemaster’s lips. Isaac had to press his palm over his mouth to silence him. 

“Hush,” Isaac hissed, but he didn’t slow down the hand that was stroking Hector’s dick. 

The younger forgemaster writhed with pleasure, hips shooting up to fuck into Isaac’s fist. He leaned down and tasted the clean flavour of Hector’s skin, tracing the jugular vein with his tongue and sucking on a clavicle. Hector’s struggles grew more desperate, small meows and exclamations fighting to get out from behind his closed lips. Finally Isaac took pity on him and released his mouth.

“Wait a second,” Hector demanded and rummaged his pockets. He fished out a small bottle of pale liquid that could only be oil and Isaac’s heart nearly stopped.

“Please don’t tell me you purchased that from the serving girl,” he breathed, his skin crawling with dread. 

“Of course not,” Hector waved off Isaac’s concern. 

“Then where did you get it from,” Isaac blinked in disbelief.

“Icarus stole it from the kitchen,” his friend grinned smugly and pointed to the opened window of their room.

With the fear of being discovered out of the way, Isaac’s thoughts went to the benefits of Hector’s little stunt.

“So, what did you hope to do with this,” he drawled, a knowing smile tugging at his mouth.

“Whatever you want,” Hector pledged breathlessly, handing the bottle to Isaac. 

Isaac hiked up Hector’s shirt to the middle of his chest, and pushed his own clothing out of the way. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of its contents in his hand then slicked their erections together and lowered himself between Hector’s parted thighs. Hector met him with impatience, angling himself to grind their hips together. Their members slid smoothly between their taut bellies and against each other. Isaac bit back a guttural moan that tried to crawl out of his throat.

They moved against each other, Isaac setting a fast rhythm, while Hector worked to match him. Then one of Hector’s hands slid under Isaac’s waistband to stroke over his ass and ghost over his entrance. Isaac’s breath stammered, his body freezing in place as he searched Hector’s eyes for his intentions.

“Can I,” Hector met his gaze, waiting for permission. “Please,” he mouthed under his breath. 

The tiny plea sent shivers of pure need down Isaac’s spine. He wanted to refuse, but the way Hector’s index finger circled his hole made Isaac’s dick twitch. Reluctantly, he nodded his consent and Hector smiled as he oiled up his fingers, kissed him on the lips and snuck his hand back into his trousers. At first he was only gently breached with a single digit. His partner worked carefully, his fingertip dipping in and out, generously oiling up the tight ring of muscle before going further.

To Isaac the sensation of being filled was as familiar as it was revealed, but despite the anxiety he felt, Isaac’s hips were quaking. He closed his eyes and put his forehead on Hector’s shoulder to hide his expression. Hector’s breath was racy and irregular near Isaac’s ear, and his actions were getting bolder. Isaac had to bite his lips to keep from groaning when Hector’s finger sunk down to the knuckle, making Isaac’s toes curl in his boots. He struggled to control the growing intensity of the rhythm of his hips, the pace becoming something nearly brutal. Thankfully, Hector didn’t seem to mind - the fingernails of his free hand were scratching Isaac’s lower back, pulling him close and urging him on as their hips slammed together. Isaac was almost at wits end when Hector prodded the sensitive nerves inside him and made his gut clench. A curse tore out of him faster than he could clench his teeth, and Isaac fought back the urge to spill.

He tried to pull away from the ecstasy - it was too much, too soon, too good - but Hector’s legs wrapped around him and pulled him close. Isaac’s pulsing dick was flattened between their stomachs, the pressure wringing out another moan from him. Hector was glowing with victory when he pulled Isaac into another deep kiss, smiling against his lips. Isaac kept his eyes closed, trying to hold on to his last shreds of self-control even as it was peeled off of him like old skin shedding off from a snake. He tried to seize control of the kiss, invaded Hector’s mouth forcefully, asserting his dominance. Hector offered no resistance, happily melting under him, letting him plunder and explore everything, even as he was sinfully sliding inside Isaac’s very core, driving him mad with unbearable pleasure.

Isaac knew that he wouldn’t be able to last, but he decided to fall apart on his own terms.

“Faster,” he gasped. 

The command had Hector’s cock leaking lewdly, slicking them further with his precum. He hurried to comply, his hand matching the rhythm of Isaac’s thrusts and finding that spot inside him every time. The twin pleasures made Isaac delirious, barely capable of keeping his sounds quiet. 

“Add another,” Isaac hissed urgently, unable to wait any longer. “And make it hurt! Hurry!”

Hector’s other hand pinched his ass, and he forced a second finger to join the first in Isaac’s tight passage. The stretch was harsh and exactly as Isaac needed it to be. It felt almost like something was getting ripped apart and ironically it was that feeling that made Isaac’s heart sore and his nerves calm enough to embrace the pleasure that was threatening to overwhelm him. 

For a moment he forgot how to breathe, his vision darkening as if he was going blind. His cock pulsed with his frantic heartbeat and his thrusts between Hector’s thighs had acquired a bruising quality. Distantly he felt his partner urging him on, grabbing their lengths and pumping them frantically, until the orgasm hit Isaac with the force of a landslide. His breath stammered and he was plunged into complete and blissful nothingness before he resurfaced back into the waking world, vulnerable, shivering and exposed - heart racing, nerves flaring - a total mess. 

Isaac claimed Hector’s mouth in a breathless kiss, grounding himself in the aftermath of that unparalleled ecstasy with the taste of the other man’s lips. Hector returned the gesture of vulnerability and trust by becoming lost in his arms in return, spasming with a potent orgasm that slicked their bellies even further with seed. Isaac had the distinct impression that Hector hadn’t lied when he had said that he enjoyed bringing him off, because he appeared more content than ever.

A little reluctantly Isaac rolled off his partner to lie on his back next to him. His mind was already reminding him that they had to right themselves promptly. Already they had risked too much, made too much noise. It wasn’t advisable to lie around and bask in their debauchery for overlong. However, Isaac’s body was too tired and sated to respond, so he remained lying next to Hector, eyes on the opened window, just waiting for his skin to cool off from the midnight breeze.

Then Hector rolled onto his side and laid his head on his shoulder. Isaac’s heart nearly stopped at the sweetness of the unexpected gesture. It made him feel needed even though the passion had been leached from their bodies, and it was all a little too much for him. He didn’t feel like he deserved it, nor did he know how to respond to it. It made him so nervous that he didn’t acknowledge Hector in any way.

After Isaac remained stiff, keeping his hands on his sides, Hector eventually rolled off from him in silence. Suspecting that his partner would perceive his behaviour as rejection, Isaac extended his hand and brushed Hector’s fingers before clasping their hands together in the space between them. 

From the corner of his eyes Isaac saw the tension drain from Hector, who squeezed Isaac’s hand in return. 

Finally Isaac relaxed enough to close his eyes and rest.

...


	9. The Forested Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Hector spend a pleasurable morning together, unaware of the trouble that awaits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: this chapter contains period-typical racism and canon-typical violence. 
> 
> Note: I don't condole violence and racism!!!  
> I hesitated for a long while about finishing and posting this chapter, and I almost lost my will to continue the story. Please keep in mind that I had planned the plot well in advance, and everything that happens in this chapter is to drive it forward. 
> 
> I finally gathered my resolve to post this, and I hope that enough time has passed and that it's respectful to publish it, because even though it's set in a fictional word, some of it may feel too real and painful to some readers. If you are sensitive to racism and violence against POC, it's best to skip this chapter. 
> 
> And as always, MASSIVE thanks to Moonstonemama, for her beta, and also for encouraging me and nudging me to complete this story!!!

The sun hadn’t yet risen when Hector awoke to the noise of a hastily raised construction, coming from the market outside the inn. The raucous banging of hammers on wood drowned out the much more peaceful noise of the dawn chorus, startling the small birds, which briefly darted over the pale sky, before disappearing from the limited view of the room’s small window.

Annoyed with the untimely disturbance that robbed him from another sweet hour of indoor sleep, Hector stretched over the straw bedding and kicked off his cloak, which he had used as a blanket in the cold hours of the night.

His partner was still asleep, lying on his side and facing the door. Knowing him, Hector could bet that Isaac always slept with the proverbial one eye open.

As Hector shifted around, Isaac’s quiet breathing turned a little irregular, as if he was teetering on the edge of consciousness. They still had some time to rest, so with only a small degree of innate hesitation, Hector reached over the short distance and caressed a line from Isaac’s shoulder to his narrow waist before wrapping an arm around him and sliding closer.

Isaac gasped and went rigid, his eyes opening with a start.

“It’s only me,” Hector whispered near his ear and to his satisfaction, Isaac’s frame softened against him.

The two men remained flush together on their sides, tension leaching out from their bodies with each long exhale. Their breathing evened out to a synchronised motion of their chests, rising and falling as one.

Hector wondered if that was what trust felt like and it was then when a realisation struck him. He trusted Isaac. That tender emotion had been used against him one too many times, but somehow Hector still found it in himself to trust Isaac. He wasn’t certain if that didn’t make him just foolish and stubborn at that point, but he knew that he couldn’t fight the feeling that spread inside his chest. He had never learned how to express his emotions, but he could follow the instinct that told him to kiss Isaac’s nape and lick the long expanse of smooth skin to the hollow under the other man’s jaw. Isaac hummed ambivalently, but didn’t shift away when Hector pressed his morning stiffness against him, letting his body speak of its desires.

“Hector,” Isaac murmured in a low, drowsy tone. Hearing Isaac utter his name so softly was a sweeter temptation than the most provocative lingerie that Lenore had ever donned to seduce him. Coming from Isaac’s soft lips, the familiar sounds rearranged to something that Hector barely recognized. No one had ever spoken his name as if it was a caress, sliding down his spine with the intoxicating promise of reciprocating every tender feeling that Hector had, but didn’t even know how to name.

The sensation of want was so poignant that Hector couldn’t wait for another moment. Gasping shallowly as if resurfacing from deep water, he moved to take what was being offered. His hands trembled with urgency as he pushed Isaac’s half-undone trousers out of the way. Underneath he found Isaac's skin sleep-warmed and still a little slick from the oil that they had used on the previous night. Isaac’s cock was already half-hard, and very cooperative once Hector began to fondle it. The shaft filled up quickly and the weight and girth of it inside Hector’s palm teased out a wanton moan from the ashen-haired man.

“It’s loud enough outside, no one’s going to hear us if we do this,” Hector whispered in justification. He nipped Isaac’s earlobe gently, dragging the soft flesh between his lips, anxiously awaiting Isaac’s reaction. He hoped Isaac wouldn't change his mind about giving in to his reckless desire, because Hector was so on edge to have him that being denied could ruin him.

Isaac allowed a low moan to escape him, sounding almost like a purr and doing funny things to Hector’s heart. He dared to bite on Isaac’s flesh just a little harder and Isaac’s breaths quickened in response, his hips rolling back against Hector’s.

Isaac’s responsiveness and the ease with which he allowed Hector to do what he wanted was going to the ashen-haired man’s head. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. Lenore had never loosened her control over him in bed or otherwise. Even when she had pretended to be submissive, the ring on his hand had made sure that everything went the way she wanted. Lenore was the puppeteer pulling the strings of her puppet, making Hector do this or that, and enjoying the resulting show. Sometimes he had to take her roughly, while she screamed as if she was getting ravaged. Sometimes he had to beg to pleasure his queen, licking the floor beneath her feet while she patted his head and called him a good pet.

Isaac had no such power over him, and when he lied with his back against Hector’s chest, Hector felt his trust reciprocated. Everything between them was on equal ground, and Hector had never known what it felt like to want to give himself over to another before. But with Isaac it came naturally, and Hector wished for nothing more than Isaac to want him in return.

He pressed harder against Isaac, his erection pulsing with need as he pumped Isaac’s length, feeling his partner’s body responding with arousal. Hector listened to Isaac’s lazy sighs, savouring each soft sound that the usually stoic forgemaster treated him with, recognizing them as the offering that they were. Hector’s tongue soothed over the bite marks on Isaac’s earlobe and he sucked the sensitive flesh between his lips, giving Isaac a taste of the favors, which he wanted to perform for him elsewhere.

With a long sigh Isaac rolled on his back and met Hector’s eyes. The dark-skinned man wore a slight smile, and didn’t protest the hand that was still stroking his cock.

“Where’s the oil,” Isaac sounded hoarse from sleep. Hector licked his lips with anticipation and smiled.

His free hand shook hard as he searched blindly for the bottle that they had used the previous night. He found it amongst the straw, sticky and half-empty already, and presented to Isaac, who took over with a calm sense of confidence that set Hector’s nerves to rest.

Isaac’s fingers were hot and gentle against the sensitive skin of Hector’s middle as he loosened Hector’s trousers and pulled them off his legs. Hector lifted his hips to help, and once he was stripped from the waist down he opened his legs to accommodate Isaac between them.

Oiled fingers stroked his eager erection and Hector threw his head back in abandon, closing his eyes and bucking up into Isaac’s fist. He bit his lips, trying to hold the needy moans that wanted to crawl out of his chest, and forced himself to still his hips before the pleasure became too much. He didn’t want to disappoint Isaac by finishing too early, no matter how good Isaac’s hand felt on him.

Isaac knelt between Hector’s thighs and kept up a lazy rhythm on his shaft, while his other hand traced a line around his sack and further down. The new area was sensitive and Hector instinctively tried to clamp up, legs squeezing around Isaac’s sides but failing to completely close and shield the vulnerable flesh. He knew well enough what was to follow, and he wanted it badly, but it didn’t change the fact that he had never done it before and his body was overly sensitive to each new touch. He wriggled even when he tried to remain still and Isaac stilled his ministrations and looked to him for a confirmation.

“Have you done this before,” Isaac murmured in question.

Hector considered claiming he had experience to appear less vulnerable and undesirable. An irrational part of his brain insisted that Isaac might use the opportunity to hurt him, or worse - change his mind about him. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Hector decided to risk telling the truth.

“No,” he shook his head, making Isaac nod in understanding.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, or if anything feels wrong,” Isaac answered level-headedly and Hector was glad for the lack of condescension in his partner’s tone. It made him breathe easily again, the anxiety leaching out of his bones. He could trust Isaac, he reminded himself. Isaac was the only trustworthy person in Hector’s world and he was glad for Isaac’s calm and reliability, grounding him and guiding him through that most intimate ritual. It made Hector feel like his feelings were considered and his comfort and integrity valued. It was the most wonderful experience in the world and he allowed himself to melt under Isaac’s touch.

Isaac’s preparation was gentle but not patronizingly so, for which Hector was grateful. His pride wouldn’t have been able to take such a blow. He was a man, not a delicate flower, nor a “good boy” or a pet. He was on equal grounds with Isaac and had the freedom to say no. That made all the difference as far as Hector was concerned.

His pride intact, he braced himself, willing to bear any agony. However, to his bewilderment, the discomfort he had prepared himself for turned out to be milder than he had expected. At first the intrusion of fingers in his ass didn’t feel particularly appealing, but to call it painful was a stretch. He wasn’t certain if he truly enjoyed the sensation, even if his cock had little trouble remaining stiff. He supposed he had Lenore to thank for training him to crave sex and remain interested, even when he had to soldier through episodes of scarce enjoyment.

Just when Hector began to think that he had signed up for one of those situations, Isaac’s long fingers nudged his prostate, making Hector’s toes curl. He gasped, a little uncertain, wriggling away from the intense sensation that felt too electrifying to be pleasure. Isaac withdrew his fingers, added more oil and reentered him, rediscovering the spot with confidence and massaging it patiently.

It quickly turned… surprisingly good. Hector’s cock jerked with renewed interest, forming a fat bead of precum that Isaac captured in his fist and spread down his shaft. Isaac placed his palm over Hector’s mouth to keep him from groaning and waking up the inn’s other patrons. Blue eyes met brown ones and Isaac curled his fingertips pressing firmly on that bundle of nerves, tearing a muffled keen from Hector. It felt… like nothing Hector had ever felt before. He couldn’t hold his hips steady, jerking up and then nailing himself down on his fingers as shockwaves of undiluted pleasure bloomed through his entire nervous system. It got Hector shuddering for breath, twitching in every way completely out of his mind.

He licked the inside of Isaac’s opened palm, tasting himself and wordlessly pleading for more.

“I think you’re ready,” Isaac whispered and his eyes twinkled with self-satisfaction. His cocky smile made him look even more irresistible and Hector had to close his eyes, lest the sight made him embarrass himself and spill from Isaac’s fingers inside of him alone.

“Do you think you’re ready,” Isaac asked quietly and Hector nodded his consent blindly.

He was so ready. Fuck, he had never known that he could be that ready! He spread his legs as wide as they could go and raised his knees, praying to gods he didn’t even believe existed that Isaac wouldn’t make him wait any longer.

Isaac’s fingers withdrew and he bent over Hector to claim his lips with a kiss. Hector answered eagerly, drawing Isaac’s tongue into his mouth, and locking his arms around Isaac, hands pulling his partner closer by the back of his neck. He felt Isaac’s cock slowly begin to press into his oiled up hole. It was much larger than Isaac’s fingers had been, but unsurprisingly Hector’s relaxed muscles opened to the intrusion and soon Isaac was sheathed inside him.

The feeling of nearly unbearable fullness was strange and different, but not nearly as bad as Hector had expected. There was nothing painful or forced, no amount of tearing, nothing unnatural about the joining of their bodies. It didn’t make him feel humiliated or used. In the end his body simply gave way and adjusted, stretching around the cock inside him and accommodating it snugly to both their satisfaction.

A hot, shuddering sigh tore out of Isaac and fanned against Hector’s parted lips. The sound sent shivers of pleasure skidding down Hector’s spine and he arched up, urging the other man closer. Isaac slid further in and Hector’s legs coiled tighter as Isaac’s length went deeper into Hector’s body, past the point that Hector thought possible. A part of him was scared from the sensation of being breached so deeply, while a different part of him rejoiced in the complete union of their bodies. He gasped Isaac’s name and cursed in as many languages as he knew, pushed beyond making sense even to himself. He was terribly close to cumming, but thankfully Isaac paused to give him time to calm down.

Isaac whispered his name over and over again between kisses, making it sound as reverent as a prayer. Each utterance was a caress to Hector’s very soul and he dragged his short nails down Isaac’s shoulders, no longer able to contain the urgency in his breath as he whispered, “Please, Isaac, please, please -”

Isaac rolled his hips into him and thrust firmly, making Hector’s eyes squeeze shut. Stars danced behind his closed lids and he bit the meaty part of his hand to keep from groaning when Isaac repeated the motion. Each drag of flesh against flesh birthed searing pleasure that died in a gutting yearning for more.

Hector quickly lost the last shreds of his mind. He wanted to beg and plead, even cry, scream and shout - just to make Isaac give him what he needed and never stop. He wanted to stay in that perfect imperfect moment forever - rolling in a pile of questionably clean straw, stabbed by strolls that were getting tangled in his hair and clothing, all the while squeezing his thighs around Isaac’s waist and riding out the most exquisite ecstasy that he had felt in his life. He almost didn’t care if anyone heard them through thin walls - everyone could go to hell if they thought that what they were doing was wrong...

Somehow Hector managed to bite down his cries and ease his trashing, promising himself that a time would come when they would be alone and able to voice their delight for each other unrestrained. For now, he could still enjoy the silent gasps that Isaac was huffing as he lifted Hector’s lower back off the ground and thrust into him in earnest. The sensation that burned within them both intensified with each jolt and as much as Hector dreamt of it to last forever, he found that he couldn’t take much more. He needed to cum more desperately than ever before and couldn’t stop his hand from reaching for his own cock.

There was no elegance, not even a shred of dignity in the desperate movements of his wrist. He wasn’t pretending that he could hold off for another second, wasn’t asking for permission if he could get himself off. It just had to happen -

Isaac’s hand wrapped around his own and for a moment Hector’s gut twisted with dejection, thinking that he was about to be denied, but then the most wonderful thing happened and Isaac began pumping him in time with his thrusts. It didn’t take more than a few blinding seconds for Hector’s brain and body to catch on to the invitation before he let himself go - turning his head away and stuffing the cloak against his mouth in the last possible second to drown out his unrestrained screams of satisfaction.

Once Hector’s cock was completely spent, Isaac pulled out of his ass and wrapped the seed-splattered hand around his own erection, bringing himself off in but a few quick, desperate strokes. Still struggling to catch his breath, Hector watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Isaac caught his seed in his fist, finishing with nothing louder than an airy grunt. The sight was erotic enough to make Hector’s softening cock twitch one last time.

“Fuck,” Hector cursed under his breath once he was certain that it was all over and no one had overheard their little escapade.

Isaac smirked a little in response, looking a little wary, but satisfied and spent.

Hector continued to curse quietly to himself as the two of them wiped themselves down as best as they could and got ready for travel.

“Fuck it, this was the best thing in my life,” Hector whispered in Isaac’s ear, embracing him from behind just as Isaac unlocked the door, on their way to vacate the room.

Isaac didn’t offer a response, but he smiled widely, and Hector felt his heart beat a little faster against his own chest. Hector kissed Isaac’s neck one final time before they set off, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to show any further affection until they were far away from the town and any signs of people. He savoured the taste and smell of Isaac’s skin, committing it to memory before letting his partner go.

...

The two forgemasters descended the creaky staircases to the ground floor and made a stop at the bar to receive the food supplies, which they had ordered the previous night. They paid for their stay and left the inn. Neither of them could have their mood soured by the rude way the innkeeper treated them nor the bleak morning that awaited them outside the establishment’s flaky red-painted door.

Outside on the town square a gallow was being erected, explaining the noise that had awoken them. Someone was going to be hanged on that day, but that was neither new nor particularly shocking. Executions happened all the time, and there were too many people in the world anyway. Hector and Isaac weren’t the type to weep for another human’s death, be it just or unjust.

The sun was slowly rising in the spring sky when they left the town behind and set out on the road towards the mountains. According to Isaac’s estimations they had only three days of journey left before they reached the abbey nestled between the snowy mountain tops. In the bright light of the morning sun, the fields of green grass that stretched in every direction, and after such a good fuck, Hector just couldn’t see what on earth could go wrong.

…

As they travelled further from the town the road thinned out to a mudpath, marked by carriage grooves and deep puddles from the recent rains. The sky was overcast and the air humid and cold, promising to turn chilling during the night. There were no more settlements on their way up the mountains, and they saw only a few other travellers trodding the paths between isolated farms and mills.

The evening breeze was cold and the mountains’ long shadows crept over the road, making the forests that surrounded it even darker, but nothing could dampen Hector’s good spirits. He was eager to make camp for the night and to get an excuse to huddle close to Isaac for warmth. Exchange a few kisses… maybe go even further under the cover of the dense shadows of the trees, if Isaac was in the mood.

The sun had almost set when his partner finally agreed that it was time to stop for the night. The two forgemasters left the road to find shelter and make camp between the ancient trees.

Isaac roasted a quail over the fire while Hector went to search for a stream. He followed the chirping of a small creek and knelt by the icy water to refill their waterskins.

The humidity of the forest clung to his skin, making him feel unusually grimy and sweaty. So he took his time to wash his face and neck, checking his reflection in a shallow pool. Perhaps it was silly to preen for Isaac, but Hector cared about what the other man thought of him now more than ever.

Icarus let out a warning croak, spotting some danger from his vantage point high above the treetops. Hector peered up at the crow and saw it flying away in the direction of the campside.

Hector shouldered the waterskins and stood up, hand feeling the handle of his sword as he hurried to get back to Isaac. The forest had gotten even murkier in the half an hour that Hector had wasted, but he could spot the distant light or their campfire between the tree trunks.

Hearing Icarus frantically croak in warning from the sky, the forgemaster’s hair stood on end. Something was wrong. He couldn’t see Isaac’s shape move around the campside, as he usually did as they settled for the night. Anxiety won over caution and Hector broke into a sprint, jumping over fallen trunks and sidestepping trees as he rushed to get back as quickly as he could.

He reached the light of their campfire and looked around, panting heavily with his sword drawn in hand.

“Isaac,” he called, not seeing his friend anywhere. The forest was quiet and awfully still, apart from Icarus’ panicked calls from a nearby tree. Hector spun around and saw something lying in the shadows on the ground. He squinted and it took him a moment to recognize the dark shape of Isaac’s back, before something hit him from behind, making his vision turn black.

…

Awareness returned to Hector in waves. First there was the splitting headache. Then he noticed the ugly laughter of hoarse voices. When he finally cracked his lids open, Hector’s vision centered on a rugged band of a dozen men, gathered around the campfire, eating and joking amongst themselves.

They appeared to be mercenaries, armed heavily with various weapons. Their leader was easy to spot - a man armoured in steel plates like a knight, but instead of a helmet, he boasted a full head of dark curls, which spilled from underneath a wide-brimmed purple hat. The man’s mustache was ridiculously shaped in what must have been fashionable in the region, and a wide swindler’s smile stretched his thin lips.

Hector was tied to a thick tree trunk not too far from the celebrating men. He tested his bounds and found them secure and unyielding. He felt relieved that apart from the pounding at the back of his head, he didn’t sense any other injuries. However, when his panicked eyes finally spotted Isaac, Hector’s chest squeezed. Their attackers hadn’t spared Isaac the same treatment. The other forgemaster looked like he had been beaten even after they had tied him up and left him helpless on the ground. Hector’s insides twisted and turned with a disgust and anger so poignant that his heart felt like it could burst.

“That one’s awake,” one of the mercenaries spotted and a few unconcerned gazes turned towards Hector.

“Don’t be afraid,” the man in the large hat said, seeming to mistake Hector’s silent fuming for fear. “We got nothing against you. We’re just going to take your friend and be on our way. Someone will find you and cut you loose… eventually.”

“What do you want with him,” Hector spat venomously, earning a few raised eyebrows and amused chuckles from his assailants.

“We don’t want anything with him,” their leader shrugged casually, as if there was nothing wrong with having attacked them without warning or provocation. “But there are people who’d pay good money for one of his kind. I just happen to know a few.”

“If you’re hunting him for parts you are deeply confused,” Hector roared in outrage. “There’s no more magic in him then there is in me, or any of you!”

“Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t,” the commander chuckled. “That’s none of our concern. We’re just salesmen. We trade in rare goods and supply what’s in demand. It’s nothing personal, I can assure you.”

“What you’re doing is wrong,” Hector shouted. “Release me! Release my friend!”

“Someone gag this… guy,” the mercenary commander waved dismissively and two rugged bandits sprang to their feet, approaching Hector with a rope and a sadistic gleam in their eyes.

“Don’t touch me,” Hector struggled against his bonds desperately, “Or may you be taken by consumption and die a slow death pissing blood and vomiting shit!”

The two mercenaries stopped short of approaching the forgemaster, clearly taken aback.

“What are you waiting for, shut him up,” their commander sounded more than a little annoyed. Hector knew he was treading thin ice - most people were deeply superstitious, and afraid of curses. Tied up to a tree as he was nothing was preventing them from gutting him.

He hoped their fear would buy him a little time as he closed his eyes and concentrated on calling his necromantic magic. Until now he had been almost relieved to be rid of it, thinking that the curse, with which he had been born was finally lifted from his shoulders. However, faced with humanity’s cruelty once more, Hector silently prayed that in his great moment of need, his power would miraculously return to him. It had to - his life, and that of Isaac depended on it.

“I call upon you, creatures of the night,” the forgemaster began to chant under his breath in one of the forgotten tongues. “All that is cold and undead, come to me!”

The mercenaries looked at each other, even more apprehensive of approaching the strange ashen-haired man. Hector’s abilities remained unresponsive, but he tried harder, reaching further into himself, pouring all of his will, passion and need into it. They had to return, they had always been there, they were the most natural thing to him...

“What’s he doing,” one of the bandits asked.

“I am not getting cursed today,” the other one stepped back.

“He’s not doing anything! It’s just superstitious bulshit,” their commander stood up, grabbing the rope himself and closing in on Hector.

Hector didn’t break his concentration to spare the other man a glance. He was becoming desperate as he tried over and over again, but his powers kept eluding him. They were still there inside of him, but unattainable, like trying to grasp smoke.

“Old and restless bones, sleeping in shallow holes under blood-soaked earth - come to me,” Hector all but begged. “Demons born from sin and despair - come to me! Anything that I’ve ever created - I need you now -”

“See,” the man in the knight’s armour and ridiculous hat grabbed Hector’s chin, jostling the gray-haired man from his futile efforts to connect to his dormant powers. “Nothing! I’m not ill, not cursed. He’s just trying to scare you!”

The rough men around the campfire began geering and mocking their scared comrades, who looked to Hector with hatred and thirst for revenge. The forgemaster swallowed back his fear and met their leader’s eyes.

“Release me, or I’ll make sure that your spirit never leaves this forest,” he whispered, keeping his eyes on the other man firmly. “By the time I’m done, you’ll wish you’ve made it to hell instead.”

“Are you a witch,” the mercenary leader lifted an eyebrow. “Funny, I thought they were all wenches, but then again -” he kneed Hector in the crotch, making him bite back a groan, “we’ll never know what you are. I was told that you and the other man were making cozy in a single room at the inn last night...”

He then turned to his band.

“Search their belongings - look for instruments of the devil!”

The bandits began rummaging the forgemaster’s bags and Hector’s heart pounded in horror when one of them stumbled upon Miranda’s charms.

“The fuck’s this ugly thing,” was the last thing the ruffian said before he crushed the skull-shaped crystal under his foot, releasing a noxious cloud of flesh-decaying poison. Ugly screams pierced the air as his meat began to rot from his bones, falling to the ground in chunks.

Hector held his breath and prayed that the wind wouldn’t blow the poison in his or Isaac’s directions. Another two of the bandits caught a whiff of the poison and fell to the ground, coughing blood before the wind carried the cloud away, dispersing it to almost harmless amounts.

“Dark magic,” the rest were hissing, their gazes emptied out from fear. “Kill him! Kill the witch!”

Their commander had taken a long step away from Hector, looking just as terrified as his company. Sadly, Hector knew that the small victory was more of a defeat than anything else. With three ruffians dead, Isaac unconscious and himself still tied to a tree, his chances of survival had suddenly plunged to zero.

“There’s only one way to kill a witch,” the mercenary leader stuttered in horror. “Gather wood - start a bonfire! We must burn him!”

Hector redoubled his struggles to escape, but it was futile. The bandits tossed branches at his feet, trying to create a pyre underneath the tree. The forest was damp, the fresh wood steamed and spat, refusing to catch fire as the mercenaries tried to light it while remaining as far away as they could, but Hector knew that eventually the flames would catch, and then…

He didn’t want to die like Dracula’s wife. Such a death was slow and cruel, and worst of all, he had just found a good reason to live and enjoy life. Why was fate so cruel!? Did it have to reunite him with Isaac, show him what happiness looked like, and then have a band of assholes burn him and drag Isaac to an even worse fate?

Panic gave way to fury and Hector shouted his summons at the top of his lungs, no longer concerned of anyone knowing what he was doing - he shouted them in every language that he knew, and watched the bandits tremble in fear, some readying their crossbows to shoot him and shut him up, only held back by their crueler brothers-in-arms, who wanted to see him suffer the burning.

In the end, it wasn’t his magic but the volume of his shouting that attracted the night creatures, which roamed the forest. The fire was just starting to burn in earnest at the roots of the tree, its harsh light making the shadows between the trunks even deeper, and the demons hiding amongst them all but invisible.

Suddenly a ghastly shape jumped forth, snatching one of the mercenaries and carrying him off into the gloom, too fast for any of the others to see. The rest of the mercenaries yelled in panic, listening to the screams quickly receding into the distance, before they were abruptly silenced.

The men waved their torches around, trying to illuminate the pitch black of the forest to no avail. Another demon swooped down from the sky, it’s long beak cleaving off the arm of a bandit, leaving him screaming as blood from his arteries sprayed the others while he ran blindly, ending up in the forest, from where he never returned.

“You and you - come help me get the black man on my horse! You there - defend my flank,” their leader shouted, already running to his horse and mounting it. His subordinates helped him uncaringly mount Isaac’s unconscious body in front of the saddle.

“I’m not staying for this,” the commander added, sneering at Hector who was trying hard to escape his bounds as the flames began to nip at his boots. “He’s going to have to burn on his own. We ride - let’s go!”

Three of the bandits rode away with their captain, while the others didn’t manage to climb on the spooked horses and were left running after the escaping party, becoming easy prey to the prowling night creatures.

Cursing loudly, Hector struggled with his own predicament. Just then a night creature noticed him, tied to a tree and about to get cooked. It slowly stalked towards him and to Hector’s hysterical amusement, he recognized it as one of his own creations. The forgemaster futilely tried to command it, but a mental fog prevented him from reaching the night creature’s consciousness.

In the light of the flames, Hector saw that the demon had mutated. There were green patches of rot clinging to its scales, and an abhorrent stench that the forgemaster had only ever sensed around the archdemon, which he had accidentally released in Styria.

So it was true, he realised, the archdemon had corrupted their power and their creatures. Not that the revelation mattered, as Hector was about to get devoured by a wide maul, and the rows of needle-like teeth behind it.

Instead of getting torn apart, a sudden gust of unnatural cold made Hector squeeze his eyes shut to protect his vision from the frost. His nose was hit by the alchemical scent of elemental magic and brittle snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes. The forgemaster opened his eyes cautiously and saw the attacking night creature frozen in a wall of ice, which had also extinguished the fire at his feet.

Dazed with disbelief, Hector turned his head, trying to see past the curved ice wall that surrounded the tree and shielded him from further attacks. Behind the thick ice he could just distinguish light and movement, and the shrieking of demons.

“Behind you,” a strangely familiar female voice shouted, and within a second, gore exploded high into the air.

“Sypha, to your left,” another familiar voice growled.

“I see them! There, Trevor!”

Hector’s body trembled with shock and relief, and just a little bit of cold as well. Once again his path crossed that of the Belmont and the Speaker, who were quickly clearing out the camp of demons. He just couldn’t believe his luck, if one could call it that.

“I think that was all of them,” he heard Trevor speak.

The ice in front of him melted and Hector’s gaze met Sypha’s perplexed one.

“Thanatos?”

“You again?” Belmont tucked the Morning star on his belt and crossed his arms as he regarded Hector suspiciously.

“What happened to you? Where’s Iften,” Sypha sounded sincerely concerned and Hector felt tears form on the edge of his vision before he blinked them away.

“They took him! Please, you must help me,” he urged, pulling on his restraints. “I’d do anything! I’ll pay you anything -”

“No need for that - we’ll help you anyway,” Sypha reassured him, blades of ice forming in the air and cutting down Hector’s restraints like knives through butter.

Shaken by her kindness and all the horrors of the previous hour, Hector fell to his knees, body weakened by stress and limbs aching from being bound so tightly for so long.

“You’re injured, let me see -” Sypha bent over him but Hector kept her away with his palms raised in defense.

“No, no time for that! Please, Isaac’s in grave danger!”

“Isaac? I thought his name was Iften,” the ginger raised an eyebrow questioningly. Hector bit his tongue and cursed himself for the slip.

“I lied,” he admitted, too scared for his partner to waste time on keeping up the pretence. “I gave you false names. Please, please help us! They’re going to tear him apart and sell his parts!”

“Who are you then? Really,” Trevor stepped forward, his buk and no-bulshit expression intimidating even if Hector could ignore the fact that he was looking at the only human who could take down any of his night creatures with ease.

“I’m Hector,” he met Trevor’s eyes firmly. “Isaac and I are travelling to the mountains to find a magical artefact. I lied to you, because we didn’t know if we could trust you.”

“Hector,” Sypha repeated thoughtfully, looking at him as if she could almost recognize why that name was significant.

“If you help me save Isaac, we’ll explain everything,” Hector insisted. “We’ll pay you anything!”

“An explanation, and another round of beers,” Trevor huffed with a dry laugh. He looked at Sypha and she met his gaze and nodded. “Alright, let’s hunt some monsters of the human kind!”

…  
…  
…

Jostled by the galloping horse, Isaac regained his wits just enough to know that hunters had turned into prey, and his attackers were being pursued. He was thrown over the horse’s spine with his wrists bound behind his back, and could barely take a full breath before it was punched back out of him as the animal fled and jumped over obstacles in the dark. Every nerve in his body was screaming from the beating he had received earlier, but he still tried to lift his head and assess his situation. All he could see was an armoured knee, the near pitch darkness of the forest road, and the shadows of two other riders, struggling to catch up.

Isaac remembered that there had been more of the bandits before, and wondered what had happened to the rest of them. But more than anything, he feared what had become of Hector.

He couldn’t do anything for his partner while he was in immediate danger himself. He needed to think of an escape first. Even though he was battered, falling off the horse was his best option. If he was lucky, his captors were going to abandon him in their desperate retreat, and he could crawl unseen into a thicket and await for the danger to pass him by.

The forgemaster didn’t waste time waiting for the right moment - he knew that it would never come. Instead he twisted in the saddle and tried to slip off from the horse, only to find that the rider had a firm grasp on his back and was preventing him from escaping. Isaac tried to struggle against it, but all he could do was flail around. The armoured man cursed him viciously and pounded his back and head with a steel-clad fist.

A particularly mean strike subdued him for a few minutes, and Isaac remained motionless while the riders took him further and further away from his only friend.

After a while the horses slowed to a trot, breathing heavily from the adrenaline and exertion of their flight. The riders were much the same, calming down after the encounter that had decimated their numbers. Listening to their conversation, Isaac learned that a grey-haired sorcerer had summoned night creatures, which had torn apart the rest of the party. His heart swelled with hope that Hector had regained his powers. Then he learned that the sorcerer in question had been left bound to a burning tree and Isaac’s optimism began to plunder into the deepest despair.

He wondered if Hector could have somehow survived. Isaac couldn’t bear to think of the alternative. He forcefully pushed that question aside, striving for focus and clarity. He needed his wits about him, otherwise he didn’t stand a chance, especially with the throbbing in his head, and his vision blurring around the edges from the beating he had taken.

“Stop complaining and look on the bright side,” the armoured man, who rode behind Isaac announced cheerfully to the others, “We’ll only split the reward between the three of us!”

“As if you wouldn’t be taking the lion’s share, captain,” one of the bandits complained. “With the kind of shit you’ve put us through, I expect double my usual pay!”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said,” the leader answered. “With the rest of the boys gone, you'll quadruple your usual share.”

The confused grunts coming from the other two men suggested that they didn’t even know what the word quadruple meant, but the captain didn’t seem perturbed by his subordinate’s ignorance.

“We’ve lost those night creatures. Make camp for the night here,” he began ordering the others. “I need to inspect the goods.”

While the remaining two bandits were busy starting up a fire, their captain got off the horse and pulled Isaac down, letting him drop heavily on the ground. The forgemaster swallowed the pained sounds that tried to escape him when he fell on his already bruised side. He pushed himself off the dirt and sat, keeping his shoulders and spine straight, despite the bonds that pulled his arms tightly behind his back.

“What have we got here,” the man, who wore an enormous and ugly hat said, kneeling in front of Isaac. He snatched Isaac’s chin and forced his head to turn to examine him in the dwindling fire light. “You know, I went through a lot of trouble because of you. You better be worth it.”

Isaac answered by spitting in the man’s face. The captain was quick to backhand him in retaliation, and the ring Isaac heard when the metal glove struck him across the cheekbone resonated for a while inside his head. The forgemaster felt a fresh trail of blood run down his face.

“So, you were that dark sorcerer’s servant,” the bandit leader continued, forcefully turning Isaac’s head to the other side. He traced a finger over the tattoos around Isaac’s left eye. “Did he give you these? Are they some sort of a ward?”

“No,” Isaac’s voice came out rough from pain and barely suppressed rage.

“No to what, savage,” his captor inquired mockingly.

“No, he didn’t give me these tattoos. No, they don’t hold a ward in them. And no, I wasn’t his servant,” Isaac forced past tightly clenched, bloodied teeth.

“What were you then,” the bandit asked and Isaac let a terrible smile stretch his bruised lips.

“His lover,” he drawled, enjoying the shock his words incited in his captor, whose eyes widened in disgust as he drew away from Isaac, as if he could somehow catch homosexuality just by standing close to him.

“Disgusting, savage, spawn of the devil,” the armoured man cursed as he moved away from Isaac, leaving the forgemaster alone for the time being.

Isaac knew that he had made things worse for himself, but at least he had won a little time alone to gather himself and fuel his resilience through anger. He promised himself that if the bandits had managed to hurt Hector, his vengeance was going to catch up with each of them. Isaac was not going to rest until they had all paid for what they had done. And he wanted them to know why they were being so exquisitely punished - the scope to which they had erred. Because if they had hurt Hector, Isaac was going to draw out their deaths, until they begged for Hell.

One of the bandits approached with a sharpened stake, which he drove through the metal links of Isaac’s bindings. He hammered the chains to the ground, forcing Isaac to lie on his side to take some of the strain off his arms.

“Sweet dreams,” the thug said as he kicked Isaac’s stomach.

Isaac didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, remaining motionless and quiet, as if he wasn’t made of bleeding flesh and torn up nerves. As if he was a figure cut out of heartless stone, which couldn’t be hurt by the feeble workings of men.

The camp quieted down as two of the bandits went to sleep, leaving one as a lookout for trouble. The fire was too far from Isaac to warm his battered and chilled body. Shivers wracked through his lean frame as he weathered the cold hours of the night.

Despite the bone-deep exhaustion he felt, Isaac tried to keep himself awake and assess his possibilities. They were likely taking him somewhere to sell him. If he let them reach their destination, his chances of escape were going to become all but none-existant. Devoid of his magic, unarmed and immobilized as he was, Isaac didn’t think he had much hope to escape at all.

Time passed and the clouds flew over the tree canopies. Isaac tried not to let the hopelessness of his situation despair him. His concussed brain dragged out memories from the last time he had been in such a helpless predicament. An opportunistic mercenary group had attacked him in his lonely home in the desert, surprising him with an ambush when he was returning from his water-refilling trek to the closest oasis. Isaac… had been in a poor mind-space at the time. For months he hadn’t taken care of his body, letting it deteriorate into hunger and dehydration and his vigilance had suffered from it. Then the attack had happened and as he had been dragged away from his home, Isaac had finally understood how unappreciative of his freedom he had grown in the years since he had gained it. He had vowed to never again forget his blessings.

Fortunately, Dracula had crossed the path of those mercenaries and decided to save Isaac and nurse him back to health from the very brink of death. It was the greatest thing that anyone had ever done for Isaac, and remembering it in his weakened state made two silent tears fall from his brown eyes. They rolled off his cheeks and soaked the ground. Isaac was grateful for the dark, because his crying remained undetected by anyone. He wasn’t going to give his captors the satisfaction of ever knowing that they had made him suffer.

...

The lookouts changed before dawn, letting their commander sleep until the late morning. By the time the bandits were breaking down camp and getting ready to continue their journey it was nearly noon. The captain’s heavy boots sunk into the muddy forest ground as he approached Isaac’s prone form. He looked down on the forgemaster, who laid curved on his side, silent with his gaze lost in the distance.

Before long Isaac was tied with a rope around the neck and forced to walk behind the bandits’ horses. The forgemaster kept his mouth shut, focusing on keeping up and suppressing the growing sensation of hopelessness. Hector was likely dead, or he would have come to search for Isaac already. All Isaac had left was to wait for the smallest opportunity to extract his revenge. Even if he wasn’t going to survive the ordeal, he could at least take one or two of the bandits down with him. The hope of retribution and a swift, violent end was the only thing that kept him going.

Isaac noticed that they were travelling south-west, back to where the forest was thinning and the roads were becoming more populated. They came across a merchant’s caravan and a messenger, but neither of them spared even a glance of sympathy for Isaac’s predicament.

Soon they were going to exit the forest and enter cultivated lands, where Isaac knew he’d get subjected to the worst humanity had to offer. Even as a free man travelling through Europe, Isaac had tasted the bitterness of racism. Currently he was reduced to little more than captured livestock, who no longer had any rights. With slaves everything was permitted, so Isaac tried to steel himself for the indignities that he knew would be forced upon him.

…

The forest was still stretching around the road and the bandits hadn’t yet stopped for a mid-day break when Isaac caught the sound of quickly approaching hoofs. There were at least three horses racing in their direction, so any lingering hopes that Hector was coming to the rescue promptly withered. Letting out a silent sigh, Isaac kept his eyes on the ground, trying to avoid tripping behind his captor’s horse.

“Who’s approaching,” the captain turned in his saddle to look behind them. His horse slowed down to a stop, followed by the other two bandits’. All three of them turned their eyes to the approaching riders.

“Isn’t this Stasi’s horse? I swear, it looks exactly like it,” one of the thugs said, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Can’t be. Stasi’s dead. Must be another horse,” the other one said and cleared his throat, punctuating his words by spitting on the ground.

“It is Stasi’s horse, and Vesimir’s, and Petyo’s,” their leader contradicted thoughtfully. “Whoever’s riding those horses has stolen them from us. Ready your weapons, boys! We’re taking back our property!”

Isaac’s heart leapt upon hearing that. Perhaps this was his opportunity to escape. He tore his tired eyes from the ground and turned to look at the approaching riders. Unlike the rest, his eyes made out the trio just fine, and what he saw made his knees go weak with relief and a whole lot of other emotions that were so jumbled that he could barely identify them.

The silver-headed rider could only be Hector. The one riding in the middle was slight and dressed in sky-blue - robes that only a Speaker wore; and the third one was large with a billowing dark cape that had to be Trevor Belmont.

Pushing all emotions aside, Isaac concentrated, gathering the last of his strength and preparing for a fight. He wasn’t going to give away the upcoming rescue by showing his relief, neither was he about to fall to the ground and weep with happiness for seeing Hector again. He wanted to fight, and gut the bandit captain himself.

The armoured commander took out his sword and cut Isaac’s rope loose from his horse.

“If you make this difficult for me and try to run, there will be hell to pay,” the captain warned with self-assurance, as if Isaac would actually obey him.

With that, he spurred his horse to meet the incoming rescue party, followed by his two thugs. Isaac hurried to get off the road and gather the spare rope that hung from his throat, in order to avoid getting trampled as the horses finally met and a battle erupted. He frantically tried to free himself from the bonds as he watched Sypha’s magic knock the bandits off their horses. Hector dismounted and didn’t hesitate to run his sword through the first man he reached.

“Hey, we agreed that we won’t kill,” Belnades shouted and erected a wall of ice in front of Hector before he could get to the rest of the thugs.

Then Hector finally noticed Isaac and seemingly forgot about his murderous intent, in favor of running towards him.

Isaac tried and failed to pay attention to what was happening to the other two bandits, but it was impossible to take his eyes off Hector, who was whole and hale despite everything, and had actually come to his rescue. He closed his eyes when Hector reached him and pulled him into his arms. Isaac held back tears of relief when he felt Hector’s heart beating hard against his own in his partner’s tight embrace.

Hector pulled away resting his forehead against Isaac’s for a moment before he hurried to cut the rope off him. Next he quickly inspected the metal chains around his wrists.

“Where are the keys,” he asked hoarsely, sounding wracked with relief.

“The captain has them - the man with the hat,” Isaac answered just as breathlessly, still disbelieving of the unbelievable rescue. Isaac was amazed by how little faith he had left, for he couldn’t comprehend that this wasn’t merely a dream. Once again something profoundly good had happened to him. He thought of Dracula again, and then he looked at Hector, who had come to rescue him intentionally, not by accident like Vlad once had...

Isaac remained in silent awe, letting Hector steady his steps back to Trevor and Sypha, who had the mercenaries on their knees with their hands at the backs of their heads in surrender.

“Keys,” Hector demanded and with a nod of Belmont’s approval the captain reached to his belt and tossed a keychain back at the grey-haired forgemaster.

Isaac’s manacles fell to the ground heavily and he carefully brought his arms back around. His shoulders were aching from stiffness, but he didn’t let the pain show on his face, keeping his eyes cold as he looked down on the men who had terrorised him mere minutes ago.

“You said you wouldn’t kill,” Sypha confronted Hector angrily. “We could have taken that man to justice, like we’ll do with these two!”

“Do you think they’ll be judged for what they did,” Hector held his ground against her. “They’ll be pardoned and you will be prosecuted for attacking them!”

Trevor looked at Sypha, who’s cheeks were flushed with indignation, but said nothing.

“They deserve death for what they did,” Hector insisted, gesturing to Isaac’s bruised and battered body. “We should kill them!”

“I agree that they deserve punishment, but killing them would make us no better than them,” Sypha disagreed. “We must turn them up to the judges - they will decide the course of their fate.”

“The judges will decide to let them go,” Hector growled. “Just let us do it! You don’t need to get your hands dirty, if you’re so concerned about your souls.”

The mercenary leader’s panicked eyes flicked between the four of them, briefly meeting Isaac’s before he looked away in fear. Isaac was glad that Hector was as set on revenge as he was, but was beginning to worry that a confrontation with the Speaker and her Belmont was the last thing they needed. It didn’t escalate to that, because to everyone’s surprise, Trevor spoke up.

“He’s right, you know,” Trevor said softly to Sypha. “Those men won’t get any justice for what they’ve done, and we’ll end up in trouble.”

“What?! How could you take his side on this,” Sypha whipped her head to stare at her partner in disbelief.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m just being realistic,” Trevor’s tone turned cold as his eyes turned to the forgemasters, “But as much as I understand your wish for revenge, it will be wrong of you to kill these men. Think about it - how many of you did they kill?”

Isaac and Hector exchanged glances, before looking back to Belmont.

“And how many of them died already,” Trevor continued with a raised eyebrow and Isaac could already tell where that was going. “Eight? Ten? There’s only two of them left, and both of you made it out with your lives. Take their horses, take their money and their stuff and consider this even! It’s the only kind of justice you’ll get. Rest assured, their glory days are over. I know it’s not enough for what they’ve done, but it’s better than nothing.”

As much as Isaac hated to admit it, the Belmont was right. The encounter had cost the bandits way more than it had cost them. And if it meant avoiding a confrontation with the people to whom he now owed his life, he decided that it was worth settling for less than a bloody end for his captors.

Isaac nodded his agreement and Hector followed suit.

“Alright, glad we could settle this like gentlemen,” Trevor sighed, wrapping the Morning star whip around his fist and unceremoniously punching both mercenaries, knocking them out cold.

Sypha snickered at his antics, but her eyes quickly lost their mirth when they turned to Isaac.

“You are injured,” she said, stepping closer to him. “I could help-”

“I am well,” Isaac claimed, lifting his hand to stop her approach. Hector was at his side instantly, hackles raised and ready to pounce if needed. Sypha stepped back, her expression a little hurt by their reaction. Isaac almost felt bad once he realised that he had rejected a genuine offer for help, but the truth was, he couldn’t stand hers or any other stranger’s hands upon himself. Hector’s medical skills and his own were going to have to be enough.

“Not so fast,” Trevor crossed his arms before his chest. “I’m sure you’re thinking of running off now that we’ve helped you with your little problem, but Hector promised us answers.”

“Mmmhhh,” Sypha hummed in agreement, mirroring her partner’s closed off stance. Isaac could tell that if those two powerful individuals wanted to prevent them from leaving, there was nothing the forgemasters could do to escape.

He looked to Hector, searching his face for an explanation of what was going on.

“Can we at least go somewhere else,” Hector suggested, running his hand through his gray hair nervously. “We’ll answer your questions, just let us get off the road first and let me tend to my partner’s wounds.”

Upon his request receiving approval, their motley assembly collected the mercenaries’ horses, their weapons and pouches before heading back into the woods. Isaac felt wary when Sypha suggested they’d make a shared camp for the night, and his unease seemed shared by both Hector and Trevor. In the end, the ginger had the Belmont on her side, and the forgemasters had no choice but to agree.  
...


End file.
